Shot in the Dark
by Tiana1
Summary: Set Season 4, Post-Doomed & A New Man, except NO RILEY. Cupid, on a bet from his mortal love, Psyche, decides to play matchmaker with our two favorite mortal enemies: Buffy and Spike. Ch. 47 now up!
1. Chapter 1: Place Your Bets

My response to the following challenge from *S_Star* posted on Crumbling Walls:  
  
"Somethin' Cupid   
Cupid intervenes in Buffy and Spike's love life in any way, any season or even AU. Causing them to eventually end up together. Could be a stand alone or a series.   
Must include either :   
1)Spike having chocolate licked from his *gorgeous* body   
2) A vampire animal or demonic animal of some kind (preferably a small, tabby cat)   
Happy writing!   
*S_Star*"  
  
  
*****  
  
Title: Shot in the Dark  
  
Author: Tiana  
  
Reviews: Would you? Really? That would be so nice. If you want to email me: tianabelle@hotmail.com  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Spike, Buffy or any other BTVS characters. Damn it.  
  
Distribution: Just ask at tianabelle@hotmail.com.   
  
Summary: Set Season 4, Post-Doomed/A New Man, except there is NO RILEY. Cupid, on a bet from his mortal love, Psyche, decides to play matchmaker with our two favorite mortal enemies: Buffy and Spike.  
  
Rating: R for sexual situations. No peeking if you're not old enough.  
  
*  
"It is easy to dodge a spear in the daylight, but it is difficult to avoid an arrow in the dark."   
-Chinese Proverb  
*  
  
*****  
Chapter 1: Place Your Bets  
*****  
  
  
****  
Somewhere not of Earth  
  
"Psyche, love. I'm bored." Cupid flips onto his back, sprawling on the satin-covered bed. Psyche strolls by, dragging her fingers up his arm.   
  
"Sweetie, what do you mean? Bored with what?" Her voice is gently inquisitive.  
  
"It's just too easy. I shoot the arrows, boy loves girl, girl loves boy, blah blah blah. I need...I need a challenge."   
  
Psyche perches on the edge of the bed, her luxurious blonde curls trailing down her back, her shimmering robes catching the moonlight streaming through the window as her delicate brow furrows in thought. Finally, her deep brown eyes light up. "Darling, I have just the thing. Let me go to Earth and find a challenge for you! I will seek out the two most difficult people to match and let you try. We can wager on it, even. You make them fall in love and...I'll do whatever you want." Her eyebrows lift in suggestion and a wide grin cracks Cupid's handsome face.   
  
"Well, that leaves me with some very good ideas. And if I fail?" His green eyes twinkle at his mortal love. "What will be the price of my failure?"  
  
"I'll make you dress up in that diaper everyone thinks you wear when you shoot the arrows of love." Her laughter warms the room. Cupid can't help but laugh along.   
  
"It's a deal, darling. Are you ready, then?"  
  
"No, wait. I need to put on something more mortal-looking. I mean, I am human, after all." Cupid gestures at her, his powers as the god of love making the change effortless. Pysche looks down at her new revealing outfit and shakes her head. "Love, more fabric, please? I'm not going down there to pick up men, after all."   
  
"Oh, right, sorry. I just love you in that outfit. How about..." He waves his hand again and Psyche is revealed in jeans and a button-up white shirt. "Boring, but appropriate, right?" He sighs.  
  
She smiles at him. "Yes, sweetie. This will do. Now, if you will? I'll even let you pick the location."   
  
His smirk reveals the inner workings of Cupid's mind. With a snap of his fingers, his lady love disappears.  
  
*****  
  
Sunnydale Cemetery, 1 a.m.  
  
"Spike, that's it. I'm going home." Buffy shakes her head, tucks her stake in her waistband and starts toward Revello Drive. Spike bounces around her, shadow-boxing the air.   
  
"Oh, c'mon, Slayer! Just gettin' the juices flowin'! Let's find more demons and vamps to take down. Evil is seriously afoot, I can tell." He gives a half-grin. Buffy is more than a little annoyed about spending time with the blond vampire. *Giles' stupid idea.*   
  
"Spike, the only evil afoot here is you. Now, get going before I regret bringing you with me any more than I already do. I'm tired. Go home." Spike frowns at the tiny and angry Slayer.   
  
" 'Ey! That's gratitude for ya. I came to help you patrol! Turn back the tide of hell, rescue kittens from trees and so on."  
  
Buffy rolls her eyes, hands on hips. "Please. You only came because you missed the violence. Don't pretend it's anything else. You're a blood-sucking killer, plain and simple. You like to kill. That's the only reason I didn't have to pay you to help me."  
  
"What's your point, blondie?" He smirks at her.   
  
Buffy sighs in frustration, throws her hands up in the air. She opens her mouth to say something else to Spike, but thinks better of it and walks away, muttering under her breath. "I don't have time for this. I don't WANT to have time for this."  
  
He calls after her rapidly retreating form, "Slayer, you're wound so bloody tight, I don't know how you can walk straight!" She only accelerates her pace, shaking her head. Spike watches her stalk towards home while fumbling through his pockets. Finally locating the pack, he pulls out a cigarette and lights up. "Irritating little chit. I can do better on my own, anyway." He strolls off, smoke wafting behind him, duster swinging.   
  
Quiet finally falls on the cemetery. From behind a nearby crypt, Psyche steps out. She turns left and peers after the petite blonde Slayer, striding purposefully for home. Then, she looks right after the swaggering blond vampire, heading towards unknown quarters for more mayhem. She smiles and says quietly, "Well, that was easy." She touches the amber amulet around her neck and suddenly vanishes as quickly and unnoticed as she had arrived.   
  
*****  
  
Psyche claps her hands, bouncing giddily around the chamber. Cupid reclines on his luxuriant chaise, watching her dance, a small smile playing on his lips.   
  
"That was quick, my love. You had some success?"  
  
"You didn't watch? I thought you would watch!"  
  
"I wanted to build some suspense. What did you think of Sunnydale? Interesting place, hmm?" He raises his eyebrows at her questioningly.  
  
"Oh, you mean all the demons and vampires and such? Very interesting, indeed. I stumbled upon the perfect pair almost immediately. I followed them around for a little while and they fought endlessly! Both with demons AND each other. It was fabulous fun. I think they would both rather die than fall in love with each other!" She flops victoriously on to the end of Cupid's lounge, cheeks flushed with excitement. "Shall we start? I can hardly wait to see the sparks fly. Because, I can guarantee you, there will be sparks!" Psyche giggles, tucking a long golden curl behind her ear.   
  
Cupid sits up, leaning close to her angelic face. "Of course. Let the fun begin." He stands up and strides to a large pool of water set into the stone floor at the end of their silken bed. "Their names, darling?"  
  
"One was called Buffy and the other Spike. Oh, and here's the best part. I almost forgot. She's the Vampire Slayer! And he..." Her grin threatens to crack her face wide open. "He is a Vampire!"   
  
Cupid runs his hands through his short hair, making it stick up every which way. "Oh, you are good. This will be very tricky, my dear. Ah, but a deal is a deal. I made no qualifications on the identity of the pair. We'll just have to hope she doesn't stake him before the bet is won." He winks at Psyche and waves his hand over the pool and an image begins to form. It is Buffy, sprawled on her bed, still fully dressed and already fast asleep.   
  
Cupid smiles. "Excellent. Humans are so much more susceptible to suggestion when they are sleeping. Now, based on what you've said, I'm thinking I'll start with an arrow of lust, rather than love. If I can make them simply want each other, love will be my next step. Besides, a bit of unbridled lust, always fun to watch." He grins wickedly, as he reaches for his gilt bow and his quiver of golden arrows. Cupid pulls out one with a fiery red tip. With aim grown true from years of practice, he looses an arrow into the pool and straight to Buffy's heart. She starts up, her hand to her chest, where there is...nothing. She winces, writes it off to Slaying aches and pains, and relaxes back into sleep.   
  
Before too long, she begins to dream. Psyche comes over to watch over Cupid's shoulder at the Slayer. Buffy's breathing begins to accelerate, her hands running over her breasts, pulling her shirt open, one hand trailing down to her pants. Suddenly, she starts up again into full alertness, panting. She shakes her head, mutters under her breath. "Okay, that was disturbing. I mean, Spike? Yech. I've got to cut back on the caffeine." Rattled, she gets up, changing out of her slaying clothes and into cream silk pajamas. "Should talk to Willow about after-effects of that do-thy-will spell. I can't have images like that in my head. UNacceptable." Buffy turns the covers back and crawls into bed. Eventually, she finds a fitful sleep as the curious pair observes her from somewhere in the heavens.   
  
Cupid waves away the scene of Buffy sleeping and turns to Psyche. "This is going to be harder than I thought. And what spell is she talking about?" Psyche shrugs. "Hmm. Well, I better start on the other half." He gestures to the pool and finds a fully awake Spike, pacing his crypt. His duster is tossed aside on a sarcophagus. A few scattered pieces of furniture are in the crypt. "Figures. Vampires don't sleep at this time of night..." Cupid is interrupted by Spike's sudden outburst.   
  
"Can't bloody believe I'm reduced to helping the Slayer and her pathetic sidekicks. If I ever get this chip out..." Spike punches the nearest wall. He licks the blood off his knuckles, a tight grimace on his face. "Will be my soddin' pleasure to tear the Slayer into tiny Buffy bits." His grimace stretches into a devilish smile at the thought.  
  
Cupid swallows. "Psyche! You weren't kidding. These two don't just not like each other, they HATE each other. This is going to be...great!" His eyes light up. "Not boring in the least, and isn't that the point?" She kisses him on the cheek.  
  
"Have fun, lover. I'll be turning in." Psyche snuggles in the bed as Cupid leans over the pool, reaching for a fresh arrow for his bow.  
  
  
  
To Be Continued... 


	2. Chapter 2: Waking Dreams

After another sweep through the cemetery for a few more demon encounters, Spike returns to his crypt, bloody, shirt torn, but satisfied.   
  
"Now, THAT was fun!" Spike flings himself into an armchair, lately acquired from the dump. "Slayer wouldn't whine so much if she just took a little more pleasure in her work." He stretches his arms out, yawning. "All this violence leaves a fella a bit knackered, though. Dawn must be coming, too."  
  
Spike squints at the wall of the crypt, as if he could peer through the stone and see the deadly sun creeping over the horizon. Regardless, he can feel the sunlight coming, sapping his energy.   
  
"Nothing for it then to sleep, then." Using his duster as a pillow, he lies down on top of a sarcophagus. Before long, his unnecessary breathing stills completely as he slips into sleep.   
  
*****  
  
Cupid, chin on his hand, finally perks up. "Heavens, I thought he would NEVER go to sleep." He reaches for his bow and arrow again, now that his target has become more vulnerable. Bowstring pulled taut, Cupid lets the arrow fly at Spike's undead heart. As it strikes, he calls to Psyche, "Love, do you want to see the vampire's reaction? Should be interesting." Pysche stirs from her nap and comes to perch next to her lover, peering into the still pool.   
  
Spike jerks upright at the sudden pain in his chest. His hand goes to his heart and finds nothing. However, he immediately begins to breathe faster. "Cor, 's weird. Can't bloody well have a heart attack without a beating heart..." Spike is distracted by the strange sensations beginning to radiate through his body, his undead heart the source.   
  
A warmth trickles down his chest and he rips his shirt open, half-expecting to see blood. But no, the feeling is internal. He runs his hands down his abs, following the sensation. It reaches his cock, which immediately springs to life, straining against the constraint of his black jeans. He groans, the suddenness of his erection nearly painful. The warmth continues to flow through his body, causing him to twitch and moan. He quickly unzips his jeans, releasing his throbbing cock, wondering at this dramatic reaction to...nothing?   
  
Just as quickly, images begin to flash through his mind. Taut, bronze skin stretched over a narrow back, the groove of the spine catching the light. Small, pert breasts glistening with sweat, the droplets running down the finely toned abs. Tiny fingers caressing his face, his neck. Blond hair swinging to cover a face as this phantom straddles him in his mind. Exquisite moans as she rises and falls over his naked torso. Faster and faster, he clutches for her in his vision as his hands slide over his cock more and more quickly. Finally, with one great yell, he comes as his imaginary sex kitten screams and claws his chest. She throws her hair back and...  
  
"Buffy!" Spike sits bolt upright, shaking his head furiously. He stares at the disarray of his clothes, the sticky wetness covering his chest. More disturbing are the visions in his head. "The Slayer? What the hell?!" He quickly jumps up, zipping his jeans. Grabbing his nearby shirt, he wipes off his chest and throws it into the corner. As he does when he is agitated, Spike paces the crypt.   
  
"Sex dreams 'bout the Slayer? That's just wrong. Want to kill her, not shag her...though she does have the tightest little.. NO!" He roars in frustration, running both hands through his short blond hair. "What is this? She was...I wonder if she really looks...oh god. This has to stop right bleedin' now . I don't want her stupid hair and short little legs and perfect breasts running through my... WHOA! Okay. Simmer down, Spike. Just a dream." He turns in tighter circles, hands on hips as he tries to regain control. "Just a bloody dream. Sometimes violence makes me horny, that's all. Yes, that's it. Had the nice big fight after a long lay-off - saw her tonight - so, she was just convenient. Convenient. Yep. And hot. DAMMIT!!" With renewed vigor, Spike paces, trying to ignore his completely unnatural, but accelerated breathing.   
  
*****  
  
Psyche jumps up, clapping her hands in excitement. "That is so great, sweetie! Look, he went from loathing her to coveting her in no time. I think he still wants to kill her, but it takes time, right?" Her curls bounce as she jumps to her feet.   
  
"That's right, my dear. The arrows are quite powerful, but of a limited duration. I will let them simmer in these feelings for a few days before I replenish. They won't know what hit them." Cupid reaches forward, waves his hand over the pool, blurring the image of the agitated vampire, still pacing.   
  
*****  
  
Buffy's House, Morning  
  
Buffy stretches long and hard, feeling satisfied. The sunlight pours through her windows, warming her bare skin. Bare skin? She looks down, suddenly remembering why she feels so satisfied. Her pajama top is ripped open, her silky bottoms loosened and wrinkled.   
  
"Ohhh crap." Buffy covers her eyes as the memories come back in detail.   
  
Images of the blond vampire she hates dance through her mind. His ripped abs under her hands, his muscular arms gripping her. His lips kissing her in many, many places. An unconscious shiver runs through her body at the thought. "Stupid dream. I mean, gross. So so not of the good." Her hands go to button her pajama top and she discovers most of the buttons are gone from being forcibly ripped open. "And I just bought these. Oooh, I hate him. Hate him, hate him, hate him! Him and his piercing blue eyes and tight little...ARGHHH!" She pounds her fists into the bed in frustration. "I am NOT attracted to that evil, bloodsucking thing. It's just inconvenient that he has killer cheekbones. Truly truly inconvenient." Buffy sighs. "Dammit."  
  
She struggles out of bed and heads for the bathroom. "Hot shower will wash away the bad. Just a fluke dream thing. I need a boyfriend. Yeah, that's it. Boyfriend. A LIVE one." Buffy turns on the water, making it a bit hotter than normal. She drops the pajamas to the floor and steps into the steamy shower. She soon realizes how hot her dream truly was. Her nipples are sore and her thighs covered in her own juices. With a gentle hand, she washes her sensitive breasts and works the washcloth between her legs. Buffy's eyes slip closed as she massages the still swollen area. Unbidden, Spike's glinting eyes appear in her mind. His naked body gleaming under the spray of water, bleached hair wet and curly. He reaches for her, pulling her closer, his hand goes down to her thigh, slowly sliding up to meet hers. His strong fingers work inside her, his thumb rubbing her clit in time. Buffy slumps against the cool tile wall, eyes closed, lips parted. Her fingers bring her closer to the edge, though her mind tells her it is him. Spike is holding her against the wall with one hand, the other driving her around the bend. His soft lips press against her neck, gently kissing his way down her jugular. She starts to shake, her breath catching as she comes closer and closer to orgasm. Finally, with a furious drive, she feels the ripples course through her pelvis and she cries out.   
  
A knock at the door shatters the illusion. Spike disappears as her Mom's voice carries through the door of the bathroom. "Buffy? Are you okay in there?"  
  
Buffy scrambles for the water, turning it off. Still shaky, she calls back, "I'm fi-ine, Mom. Almost done."  
  
"I didn't know you were staying over here last night'til I heard the shower. Everything okay at the dorm?"  
  
Buffy stumbles out of the shower, reaching for a towel. "Oh yeah, I was just patrolling late and decided to crash here...it's closer to the cemetery." She peeks out the door and smiles at her Mom. " 'morning, by the way."   
  
Joyce smiles back. "Good morning, sweetie. Want some breakfast? I can make pancakes."   
  
"Sounds great. I'll be down in two shakes." Buffy clicks the door closed and leans against it, trying to slow her breathing to normal. "If that stupid vamp didn't have a chip, I would stake him for making me feel this way. So so wrong." She continues to dry herself off, forcing her mind to other topics beside Spike, completely unaware that the subject of her anger is across town fighting the same unwelcome lust with a vengeance.   
  
************  
  
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating this fic. I'll try to do better! Thanks to everyone who reviewed and emailed, asking for more! :)  
  
-Tiana 


	3. Chapter 3: No Substitute for the Real Th...

*****  
Chapter 3: No Substitute for the Real Thing  
*****  
  
Spike's Crypt, early afternoon  
  
  
Spike continues to pace, periodically taking swigs from a quickly emptying bottle of whiskey. He mutters under his breath, "Tiny little neck, should be easy to snap, but no. Little girl, big power. Totally bleedin' unfair, it is." He has spent half the day in this state, barely able to sleep without waking up in a cold sweat, visions of Buffy dancing in his head. Slowly, the effects of exhaustion and too much whiskey are helping him towards unconsciousness. He slumps into his beat-up armchair, the bottle dangling from his fingers. Spike's platinum curls rest against the chair, his head pounding from the thoughts that torture him. Buffy. The Slayer. His mortal enemy. Yesterday, it was easy. He wanted her dead. Now, he just wants her. He closes his eyes and rather than sleep, he finds unconsciousness. The bottle drops from his limp hand as he finally finds peace. For now.   
  
*****  
  
U C Sunnydale, History class  
  
For the third time in an hour, Buffy drops her pencil. Willow glances sharply at her friend, wondering at her distractedness. As Buffy leans down to pick it up, she hopes her hair hides how flushed she is. Dammit. She looks down at her notebook, noticing it has happened again. In the margins of her notes, doodles. But not just any doodles. The last one that made her drop her pencil...a heart with the name Spike drawn in it. Buffy takes her pencil and scribbles at the heart, pressing so hard she rips the page in half. Willow turns to Buffy again, eyes wide. Finally, mercifully, the bell rings. Buffy scrambles to grab her belongings and get out of the suddenly too-hot room. She gets halfway to the door before she feels a hand on her arm.   
  
"Buffy?" Buffy stops, eyes closed. She can't face Willow like this and she sure as hell can't tell her why she is acting so odd. With a small sigh, she turns to her dear friend. "Are you okay? You were acting a bit wiggy in class."  
  
Striving for nonchalance, Buffy smiles. "I'm fine, Will. Just, that class is so boring. And uh, I was up late slaying. Plus, isn't it extra hot in here?" She stops rambling. "Also, it may be that I have a fever. With the flushed cheeks and all."  
  
Willow's eyebrows knit together in concern. "Well, you are kind of red in the face, Buffy. Maybe you should head back to the room and lie down."  
  
"NO!" Willow jumps at Buffy's vehemence. "Can't lie down. It makes me feel, uh, funny. And not funny ha-ha, funny weird."  
  
"Right, well. Can I do something for you?"   
  
"Sure, let's get some lunch, that should be distracting... I mean, delicious." Buffy strains to grin and take Willow by the arm, dragging her to the cafeteria. She mutters under her breath, "I will stake him for this. Right after I take him...ARGH!"  
  
"Buffy?!" Willow jumps at Buffy's sudden exclamation of frustration.  
  
"Fine, fine, Willow. Thought I, uh, saw a mouse. Big fuzzy one. Yech. Let's go."   
  
Willow trails Buffy, shaking her head. Girl is acting seriously weird.  
  
*****  
  
That night...  
  
Spike groans, rubbing his hand over his face as he struggles to consciousness. The alcohol is wearing off. He feels that the air in the crypt has grown colder and the light even dimmer. Finally, it's nighttime. He needs to get out of the close air in here, shake the memories of the day, fight his craving for Buffy. Only, now he might actually see the object of his anger/affection in living flesh. He sighs, body shuddering as he pictures her in the moonlight. Spike slams his hand on the arm of the chair. "No. I'll just avoid the bleedin' cemetery tonight. If I don't see her, maybe I can get these ridiculous thoughts out of my head. I can find other things to do, not that pathetic." The blond vampire snatches up his duster and makes for the door. He is torn. Most of him wants to tear the town apart 'til he finds the petite Slayer and acts out every fantasy he's had in these dozen hours. Of course, he would be a pile of dust formerly known as Spike before he got through fantasy number one. "Rather not get staked just yet. For my own sake, I've got to avoid the bloody bint." He slams the crypt door open and stalks off into the night, hoping he is heading in the opposite direction of Buffy.   
  
*****  
  
"Patrolling tonight?"  
  
"What? No!" Buffy jerks up from her reading at Willow's suggestion. "I mean, no. I don't feel like it." She looks down at her psych book and the page she has been reading for the past twenty minutes. "In fact, I don't feel like studying, either. Wanna Bronze it?"   
  
Willow looks at her book, then at her roommate with the hopeful smile. "Well, alright. Not too late, though. I've got a paper to finish up."   
  
"Sure, sure. Let's go!" Buffy hops up, grabs her jacket and pulls Willow out the door.   
  
***  
  
The Bronze, 11 p.m.  
  
"Another Coke, Willow?" Buffy plops down on the stool next to Willow, slightly out of breath. Willow, head on her chin and poking her straw absently into a glass of ice, gives her friend a look of slight exasperation.   
  
"No thanks, Buff. I think I better hit the road. Homework? Remember that? And besides, aren't you tired? You've been dancing all night..." Willow continues under her breath, "...with every guy within a five mile radius, too..."  
  
Buffy, distracted by the wide selection of men around her, turns back to Willow. "What was that? Yes? I'll get you one." Buffy starts to bounce back up, but Willow grabs her arm, guiding her back onto the stool.  
  
"Buffy! Look at me." With great effort, Buffy turns her eyes on her redheaded friend. "I'm going home." Willow makes little walking fingers with one hand, demonstrating her intentions for her fickle-minded friend. "Are you staying?"  
  
Buffy nods, trying very hard to listen. All she can think about is a certain blond vampire and everything else is a bit blurry. "See you at home?" There, that was a reasonable response.  
  
"Buff, are you okay? Should I take you with me?" Will looks around, but Buffy hasn't actually been drinking. She's just one tiny, but potent ball of energy tonight. Probably extra oomph from not slaying.   
  
Waving her hand in dismissal, Buffy laughs, "Heck no, Will. I'm having fun. You go, get some sleep. I'll be home later on."  
  
Still unsure, Will gathers her things and stands up. "Have fun. Okay, but not too much fun. Or be careful having it. You know what I mean." A crooked smile and a wave and Willow is gone into the crowd. Buffy turns back to the press of bodies, scanning for her next victim...dance partner. Next dance partner. She spots a blond head in the crowd and her heart flies into her throat. He turns and she realizes it is not Spike, just a regular guy. She cocks her head a bit and mumbles, "Looks a teeny tiny bit like him, that'll do for now." Unable to understand her insatiable appetite for Spike, Buffy is trying substitutes on for size. Anything to keep her mind off him. Evil, bloodsucking, delectable Spike. Crap.  
  
She pops off the stool and sashays toward the blond undergrad in question. Tapping him on his arm, she turns on megawatt charm. "Care to dance, cutie?" Her pearly whites flash at him and he immediately follows her onto the dance floor to a throbbing rock number.  
  
*****  
  
Meanwhile.  
  
"Bollocks. Every soddin' thing I do makes me think of her. Need a drink." Spike pushes the metal door open and steps into the crowded bar, full of warmth and bodies pressed against each other. Stepping up to the bar, Spike slaps down a few bills. "Whiskey. Shot. Keep it comin'." The bartender nods, pours out a shot and slides it over. Spike slams it and pushes the glass back to the bartender. After repeating this routine a half dozen times, he feels the artificial warmth of the whiskey permeating his body, even giving his skin a bit of heat. He holds up his hand, stopping the bartender from refilling his glass. "Enough for now, mate. Thanks." Nodding, the burly bartender wanders down to another customer. Spike turns, leaning back and resting his elbows on the bar, surveying the crowd on the dance floor. After a few seconds, his throat goes suddenly and completely dry.   
  
Buffy.  
  
On the dance floor. Moving like he's never seen her move before. He swallows. She's wearing a barely there black dress, skinny straps and short. Her hair pulled back so her delicate neck is completely exposed. Spike swallows again and clumsily reaches back for his glass. Reaching it, he taps it gently and then louder on the bar. The bartender, hearing his cue, walks back over and fills it again. Spike takes the shot and drops the glass again. Buffy doesn't see him, so he takes a chance to keep watching her. She smiles up at the wanker she's dancing with, some dumb college boy with no clue who he has hanging all over him. Her hands trail down his arms, and as the music slows, she moves closer. Her hips swivel against the guy and Spike has to clutch the bar with one hand while demanding a shot with the other. Full of whiskey and a blinding lust, Spike feels himself moving towards her. Her bronze skin, luring him ever closer with every gyration. He stops on the edge of the dance floor, fists clutching. Abruptly, he makes for the edge of the floor and a table. Facing away from the floor, he sits and shakes, half in anger and half with raging desire for the petite blonde a few yards away. His shoulders tighten, stretching his leather duster across his back as he tries to fight down his urges. Just as he feels his artificial breathing slow down, a warm hand touches his shoulder, runs down his arm. A hot breath whispers into his ear.  
  
"Care to dance, handsome?"  
  
  
************  
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay (again). I was finishing up my other fic, Heart and Soul. Now that it's done, I should have more time for this one! (Except for the fact that I think I'm going to write a sequel to H&S. Oh well!)  
Hope you enjoy!  
-Tiana 


	4. Chapter 4: Come Here Often?

*****  
Chapter 4: Come Here Often?  
*****  
  
  
Spike grimaces and mutters, "Sorry, luv, no can...." As he turns to glance at the girl in question, his words die in his throat. Her hand withdraws quickly as if she was burned.   
  
"Spike!" Buffy's cheeks flush crimson red as she takes a few stumbling steps backwards. "Uh...uh...didn't know it was you, um, gotta go." She spins on her heel and makes a break for the ladies' room. Spike stares at her, mouth slightly agape. Buffy wanted to dance with him? But wait, she didn't know it was him, just thought it was...another platinum blond with a leather duster? Weird. Without pausing to think too much more, Spike leaps from the stool, following the Slayer as she flees.   
  
He catches up to her in the dark hallway leading to the restrooms. Spike reaches out, putting one hand on her shoulder, trying to slow her flight. Buffy shrieks, jumps away from his contact. "Spike! What the hell are you doing!?" She slowly backs away from him, finally reaching the wall and stopping.   
  
Spike notices her cheeks are still red and her heartbeat is racing. He cocks his head, realizing she is even more intoxicating in person than in his dreams. A low growl in his throat silences his inner voice for the moment.  
  
"Funny you should ask that, Slayer. I was wondering the same of you. Bit late for a school night, isn't it?" His eyes are dark, intense despite his playful words and it is making her squirm. She sees his glance flick down her body, assessing her rather revealing outfit and the body within it. Buffy is torn between anger and arousal at his obvious appraisal. Strangely enough, arousal wins.  
  
"I'm a big girl, Spike. Can take care of myself, don't you think?" Buffy looks up at Spike through her eyelashes. Her mind is screaming at Buffy, telling her to stop flirting right this instant. Only she can't. Or won't.   
  
Spike is slightly taken aback. He wasn't even sure exactly what he planned to do when he followed her, he just knew he couldn't let her escape. Logic is taking a backseat to his more basic instincts this close to her. The perfume of her body is making his head swim. Sunlight, youth and suddenly sexuality assaults his senses. And she is not running off, she is in fact, looking at him in a most interesting way.   
  
"Yeah, sure, pet. Just don't see you here too often. And dancing. Didn't know you still danced."  
  
"Oh, but I do. I love to dance." Buffy remains against the wall, but somehow Spike feels like she has moved closer to him. Her voice is almost a purr. Whatever has made him lust after Buffy the last 24 hours is kicking into overdrive, amplified by her proximity to him.   
  
"That so?" Spike swallows, fighting his urge to grab ahold of her and pull her body against his. He is grateful she cannot read his body's signals like he can read hers. She is aroused by his presence and it is doing a number on his self-control. Buffy's eyes are glazed over, as if she is not quite there.   
  
"Yes, that's so." Buffy feels her pulse racing as Spike looks at her with those deep blue eyes. She knows she should be running away from him, she hates him. Only she can't quite make her legs work that direction. In fact, she realizes belatedly that she has, in fact, taken a step closer to Spike. Buffy wonders when the world begin to tilt off-kilter. And why is Spike looking at her that way? He hates her with the same white-hot passion that she does him. Only. Only, God, he's so cute. So hot. Buffy takes another step, brain sending alarm signals as she comes within his arm's reach.   
  
Spike fights to keep his arms at his sides as she slowly moves towards him. She is close enough to him that he can feel the heat radiating off her petite body. He imagines what her skin would feel like, soft, warm, pliable under his hands. The steady pulse beating , pumping in time with his desire.   
  
A new song begins, a slow, pounding number. Both Buffy and Spike pause, the only sound the music around them. They are alone in the dim hallway, but the music reaches them through the thin walls. Simultaneously, Buffy's hand reaches out to Spike's as his arm snakes around her waist. As their hands meet, and he finds her bare back, the skin on skin contacts elicit a shudder from both. Her fingers wrap around his hand as his arm pulls her roughly against his body. She molds her body to his, her head resting on his chest, face mere inches from his neck. Their clasped hands rest against his chest. Buffy's other arm slides under Spike's duster, grasping the fabric of his shirt. Her breathing is rapid, uneven.  
  
Moving slowly in time to the music, Spike's mind races. He has the Slayer in his arms, tender, gentle, completely vulnerable. Despite the chip, he could take a crack at her in this state. She is off-guard, clearly affected by something which has altered her judgment. What else could possibly explain her clutching her mortal enemy in this dark hall? Of course, he is not feeling quite himself either. Truth be told, he is as confused as she. He doesn't want to drain her dry and leave her in this hallway. No, he wants to slam her body against the opposite wall, rip this black dress from her and have his way with her taut little body.   
  
Buffy's thoughts are in turmoil, as well. Why, oh why is she dancing with Spike? Spike!! Enemy, evil, thorn in her side. She can feel his muscular chest under her hand, pressed against her. He smells like danger, nighttime, sex and it makes her feel weak. And strong at the same time. As she presses even closer to Spike, she feels his arousal and smiles slowly. In her mind's eye, she can see herself taking him down to the ground in this dank little hallway with one swift kick. Straddling him, ripping that shirt off and..  
  
Buffy and Spike's fantasies build to a fever pitch, and they suddenly push away from each other to opposite sides of the hall. Both panting, eyes wild, they stare across at each other, only a few feet apart. The fear and the lust is thick in the closed quarters and Buffy's eyes dart around, like a trapped animal. Spike is frozen against the wall, unsure what to do next. Unsettled by the power of their desire, both make a break. Buffy takes off for the main floor of the Bronze, disappearing into the crowd. Spike watches her go and turns away himself, flinging himself out of the emergency exit and then flattening himself against it in the back alley.   
  
"What the bloody hell was that?!" Spike puts both hands to his head, trying to calm himself and failing miserably. While she is still somewhat nearby, his body betrays him, straining, craving her. His mind fights for dominance as his hormones continue to shoot off the charts. He is horrified at how close he came to kissing her, caressing those soft shoulders, picking her up in his arms... Still, he had her writhing body right against his and there was no doubt what he picked up in the air. Arousal. She sometimes gave off the scent in a fight, but nothing like this. This was like getting hit with a brick. She wanted him, wanted him very badly.   
  
Spike pushes off from the door and fumbles in his duster for his cigarettes and lighter. Finding one, he lights up, hands shaking. He wanted her too, there in the dark. And still does. He lifts his head sharply. The scent is still there, wafting toward his sensitive nose. Buffy. Like the predator he is, Spike stalks down the alley, following the scent. He reaches the corner and looks around it. Off in the distance, he sees her, lit by streetlight. Head down, arms wrapped around her chest, obviously distracted and upset. She stumbles a bit, and he watches her put out a hand to steady herself on a lamppost, leaning down to adjust the strap on her black strappy shoes. He groans to himself as he follows her movements. Was she aware how sexy she was? She didn't act like it.   
  
Spike comes around the corner and begins to follow her, keeping to the shadows. As she starts to walk again, he can tell she is lost in her thoughts. So lost she doesn't see the vamp coming out of an alley near her. Surely, she's just playing dumb. She knows he is there. Spike hesitates, unsure if he should call out. The vamp is moving quickly towards her and he is not alone. Two vamps coming up behind Buffy. Why the hell wasn't she reacting? Increasing his pace, Spike moves toward the group, tossing his cigarette aside. Could just let them have her, save him a lot of trouble. Only somehow, he can't. Just as the long-haired vamp leaps into action, Spike yells, "Oy! Buffy! Heads up, luv!" She turns suddenly towards the vamp right as he lands on her. They roll together on the pavement, struggling for the upper hand. Clearly, she is being hampered by her state of mind and the element of surprise. Not to mention the apparent lack of a stake. The second vamp looks to get in on the action, but Spike tackles him to the ground a few feet away from Buffy and her attacker. A few well-placed punches later and the vamp is a pile of dust, courtesy of the stake Spike keeps in his duster. He gets up to see that Buffy has rolled on top of the vamp in question.   
  
He calls out, "Slayer!" as the stake flies through the air. She looks at him just long enough to catch the stake, plunging it into the vamp in the same motion.   
  
Spike walks up to Buffy as she is sprawled on the cold pavement in her short dress, the vamp dusted. He takes a deep, unnecessary breath, trying not to see how much of her legs are exposed in this position. She looks up as his hand reaches out to help her to her feet. Her eyes are wide as she takes the help to stand. Dropping his hand, she straightens and pulls down her dress, standing awkwardly in front of Spike.   
  
"Th-thanks, Spike. I didn't see them. I was...uh...distracted." Her eyes dart up to his for a second, but then resume their study of the pavement between them.  
  
"Right, well, you're welcome, Slayer. Guess I should go." Spike turns to leave, body quivering in desire for her. Coming within a few feet of her causes his skin to vibrate in a most pleasant way, but he has to remember he hates her. Hates her and her stupid Scooby friends and their do-gooder ways. But bleedin' hell, she is a goddess. He growls, hands into fists. Again, he feels her small, warm hand on his arm and he almost blacks out. Contact.   
  
"Uh, Spike?" He turns to her, sees she is grimacing in pain. For the first time, he notices that she is bleeding from her side, her dress torn. Bloody vamp had a knife, it looks like. The smell of blood hits him, copper and heavenly. "I...I think I need help." Her eyes roll back as she starts to collapse. Spike leaps forward, catching her before she hits the pavement. He gathers her up in his arms, her head lolling back. She moans, coming quickly out of her faint. Spike groans. Things have gone from bad to worse. He wanted to avoid Buffy, avoid temptation. Instead, he now had her in his arms, barely dressed, weak as a kitten, with fresh Slayer blood staining his hands.   
  
Adjusting the warm body in his arms, Spike turns towards his crypt. Buffy snuggles in closer, making small sounds of contentment despite her injury. He turns his eyes to the heavens, to whoever is listening. "If this is a joke, it's not soddin' funny!"   
  
  
  
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Author's Note: As promised, I am working on this fic more now, so the chapters should come quicker. Reviews would be great. :)  
  
-Tiana 


	5. Chapter 5: Walking a Thin Line

*****  
Chapter 5: Walking a Thin Line  
*****  
  
  
Buffy struggles to stay conscious, aware of a shooting pain in her side and a very strange sensation of floating. Or being carried? Yes, that's it, definitely being carried. An arm around her shoulders and one under her knees. Strong arms, she can feel the tightness in them as he holds her as still as possible, trying not to jostle her injury as he walks. A moment of panic flashes through Buffy's mind as she figures out who is carrying her. Her eyes , adjusting to the darkness, pick up the platinum hair and black leather. Spike. She is being carried by Spike. The walking stops in response to her sudden squirming.   
  
The voice is quiet, concerned and she can feel the vibration through his chest. "Buffy? You in pain, luv?" His tone is soothing and she settles back down.   
  
"M'okay." She feels sleepy and light-headed. Probably a bit of blood loss to blame for that. "Where?"  
  
"I'm taking you to my crypt, Slayer. Just to get you bandaged up, mind. Didn't figure either your mum or Red would take too kindly to me bringing home a Slayer covered in her own blood."  
  
"S'alright. Mum... Mom's not home. Gallery trip." Spike hesitates at the thought of taking Buffy to her own bedroom, but it would be better to take her home. Then he could get away from her before something else happens between them. She'd be safe there. He sighs.   
  
"Okay, Slayer. I'll take you home." He turns towards Revello drive with his patient.  
  
"Mm, 'kay. Tired." Buffy's eyes begin to slip closed. Spike stops walking, with alarm.  
  
"Stay awake, Slayer. You might be in shock."   
  
Buffy giggles. "No, you might be in shock." She is clearly out of it, but Spike decides to play along to keep her conscious.   
  
"Me, pet? Why would I be in shock?" He resumes his pace, adjusting her slightly in his arms. A warm arm slides around his back, under his duster and he almost yelps. When the hand slides down to grab his butt, he does, in fact, yelp. "Slayer!!"   
  
She giggles, but doesn't move her hand. "See? Shock." Her eyes, pupils dilated, try to focus on his stunned face. "You feel nice."   
  
Spike swallows, hard. "Buffy, please stop doing that." Her hand is travelling now, slipping under his shirt. Warm skin on his cool back makes him almost drop her in the middle of the street. "Buffy. Stop. I...I don't want to drop you."  
  
She purses her lips in a pout and pulls her hand out of his shirt. She doesn't remove it from his back, though, and Spike can feel all five fingers burning into him. He closes his eyes for a second to calm down, but the images that flash through his mind rattle him further. Throwing her down right here and...well, that would likely shock her quite a bit. Remembering his desire to not be staked before the night is over, he continues walking. "You don't know what you're doing, Slayer. It's the blood loss. Tomorrow, you'll either hate me even more or want to stake me, so let's just walk, eh?" He raises an eyebrow at her, wishing he could grab ahold of that bottom lip she is thrusting out so prettily.   
  
Buffy struggles to form a sentence. "Do too know what I'm doing. You are so..." Her head drops back again and this time, Spike decides to let her stay out. Probably safer for all concerned. Slayer healing skills are already slowing the bleeding, so no need to worry too much.  
  
Finally, Spike reaches Buffy's house with the still-unconscious Slayer in his arms. After struggling through the front door , he manages to get her upstairs to her old bedroom. She moans slightly as he gently lays her down on her bed. Spike stands back to survey the scene. She is still bleeding lightly. Her dress is torn on the side and it looks like he can't really get to the wound without taking it off. His fists clench and the muscle in his jaw twitches. "Has to be so bloody beautiful. Noooo, can't have an unattractive Slayer, now can we?" As he talks, Spike bends to take off her shoes, slipping the straps off, his hands sliding down her delicate feet. He looks the dress over, trying to figure out how it comes off. His hands shake as he has to run his hands down the seam, looking for the zipper. Finally, he finds it down the side. The separating of metal makes an incredibly loud sound in the still room as he pulls it down as far as it goes.   
  
"Oh god." He pulls his hands back. "Has to go over her head." Spike stops and throws off his duster to bend to this delicate task. His eyes flick to the Slayer's face, looking for any sign of wakefulness and muttering, "Run me through on the spot if she comes awake during this. Fitting end. Horny vampire helps unconscious Slayer, gets staked in the process."   
  
Leaning forward, he puts his hands on her thighs and nearly loses it right there. She moves a little, reacting to the coolness of his body. Her skin is soft and warm, smooth and tight. Sliding up slowly, he gathers her skirt and pushes it. His thumbs graze her panties and he feels the moisture there. Gritting his teeth, Spike continues on, revealing her taut belly and narrow waist. Suddenly, he jumps back as if burned. "Jesus, Buffy." No bra. "This is not good. I mean, it's very very good, but oh god." Spike feels his world going slightly off-axis. The more he touches her, the more disoriented he feels.   
  
Lust. Overwhelming lust threatens his sanity. A distant voice points out that he has revealed her stab wound. Through the miracle of Slayer healing, it has closed. Blood still glistens wet on her bronze skin and Spike finds himself equally woozy from the heady scent. His hand reaches slowly, slowly towards her side, the blood calling to him. His face flickers from human to vampire as he struggles for control. Slayer blood. Better than any other, an elixir of power and seduction. And he's gone without human blood for months now. As his hand nearly reaches her recent injury, a smaller hand wraps around his wrist, stopping his progress.  
  
"Spike." There is a slight question in the husky voice, but more of something else. Fighting his urge for the blood, Spike turns to Buffy. Her face is open, intense with longing as her eyes meet his. The blood pounds in his ears, so that he cannot almost not hear her above the roar. She pulls his hand towards her mouth. As her moist lips press against his palm, he starts to shake. He sees a tremor run through her half naked body. She is slipping into this maelstrom with him. Spike dips his head towards her, unable to keep his lips from hers a moment longer. Thoughts tumble over one another, alternately encouraging him and screaming at him to stop right this instant.   
  
Buffy can't quite focus her eyes. She knows she is in her bedroom and she is not alone. When she woke, the pain in her side was fading, but other sensations were striving to keep her body heated. Cool hands were on her, her dress being lifted. Her eyes opened to slits and she immediately knew the silver-white hair and lean body bending over her. He was being so gentle, and she had the sense to realize he was there to help her, to check on her pain. The blood, that's where the blood came from. Also, she flashed back to grasping a tight, leather-covered butt and her cheeks flushed with high color at the thought. Nerve endings tingling, she sees his hand moving over her, towards her injury. She takes ahold of him, turning his attention to her face, kissing the palm of his hand. He seems startled, but hazy. His face moves closer and she tenses, waiting for the kiss.   
  
Electricity. It courses through them both as their lips meet, super-heating their bodies and threatening to short-circuit their systems.   
  
They moan in unison.  
  
"Oh, Spike."  
  
"Buffy."  
  
They freeze, both their bodies crying for more, but their minds have awakened in this lust frenzy. They jerk away from each other and for the second time tonight, stare at the other, wondering what and why and how this could happen. Mortal enemies don't end up half-naked together, making out. It simply isn't done. Spike grabs for his duster, while making a move for the window as Buffy scrambles to cover herself with the coverlet. With one glance over his shoulder at the distraught Slayer, a paler than usual Spike climbs out the window. She hears him land lightly outside and his footsteps pound away. As the distance grows between them, her heartbeat slows slightly and the haze lifts a bit.  
  
***  
  
"Damn it!" Cupid slaps the water of his gazing pool, disrupting the image of Buffy in her dim bedroom. "I thought that was it for certain this time!" Psyche pops to her feet, clapping her hands.   
  
"Oh, they are fun, aren't they?! I knew this was going to be great."  
  
Cupid eyes furrow in thought. "I've never seen anything like it. They should still be under the deepest influence of those lust arrows and yet..." He gestures at the water, where they've just witnessed an evening full of near misses. "I think I underestimated these two. Both their willpower and their confusing emotions toward each other. There's something already there which is causing a great deal of turmoil."  
  
"Yes, darling. It's hate. They hate each other, remember?" Psyche grins at him.  
  
"I know, I know. But have you ever seen a lust spell rattle two people in quite this way? It's like...well, I just think it's intriguing. They won't get the best of me, though." Cupid leans over for his quiver of arrows.  
  
Psyche squals in delight. "Already?! You're going to dose them again so soon? But sweetie, it has only been 24 hours!"  
  
"I know, but this is a special case. I won't let them win. I'm the god here, right?" He winks at his love and withdraws two red-tipped lust arrows. "This should get very interesting, very fast. Grab a seat, my dear." Psyche perches on the edge of the pool. Through the magic invested in this water, both Buffy and Spike are visible. He is running towards his crypt while she sits stunned on her bed. Cupid loads his bow with both arrows and lets them fly into the still water. They separate and focus in on their individual targets. The force of the arrow knocks Spike to the ground as Buffy is flung back into her bed by hers, a new and more powerful heat burning them both from the inside out.  
  
  
  
  
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Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews, everyone. See how motivating they were? Enjoy! -Ti 


	6. Chapter 6: Release

*****  
Chapter 6: Release  
*****  
  
  
Spike clutches his chest, a burning pain there radiating outwards, warming him in a most unnatural way. "Bloody hell, what the..." He scrambles to his feet, still checking himself for injury and around him for an enemy. His vampire senses tell him he is completely alone in the cemetery, but something has definitely happened to him. The sensation screams up his spine as his mind is flooded with visions of Buffy. Images come at him fast and furious as he reels, trying to regain his stability. His feet are moving back towards her before he can stop himself. His skin feels too tight for his body, his clothes too smothering and the distance between them entirely too far. Something Spike means to correct, and fast. Must have her. Must feel her again. Now. He accelerates his pace towards the Slayer, who is having her own awakening.  
  
Buffy grabs onto her bedclothes, wondering what truck just hit her. She looks down at herself and sees nothing. Looks around, sees nobody in her room. But oh god, she wishes he was there. Spike. She shakes her head, but the thought won't leave her. The delicious blond vampire is overwhelming her mind. Buffy feels her heart begin to race and her palms sweat as she envisions him. She struggles out of bed, half-zipping her black dress, trying to decide the best way to find him immediately. Because all of a sudden she must. She is soaked through with arousal, needing his cool touch on her body again. Dizzy and not a bit confused, Buffy moves to the window, hoping to see which way he went. Nothing. She turns and runs for the stairs barefoot, clearing them in a few seconds. Grabbing the doorknob of the front door, she flings it open.   
  
Her heart stops beating for just a second as her breath catches in her throat. Spike is standing on the front porch, chest heaving with unneeded breaths and piercing her with his eyes of darkest blue. She feels weak in her knees, and at the same time, filled with a burning need for him. Buffy reaches out and grabs him by the shirt, yanking the vampire forcefully into the house and slamming the door shut. She flings his body against the door like a rag doll and holds him there.   
  
"Spike." Her voice is almost not her own. It is violent with sexual need and desire.   
  
"Slayer." He growls to her, his voice matching hers in intensity and ferocity. She moves on him with lightning speed, ripping his shirt open, buttons pinging on the wooden floor like hail. Slamming into him with her own petite body, her hands clutch his chest as her mouth finds his. The blinding heat of her lips is transferred to Spike as their mouths attack, tongues tangling in a desperate fight for dominance. His hands grasp her shoulders, hard enough to bruise. They pull apart briefly and Spike advances on her. The air between them sparks, thick with electric charge. Slow steps, prowling closer. She backs slowly, not trying to leave him, but rather to lure him. She bends her index finger at him, drawing him closer with a smirk and her deep eyes.   
  
A low rumble in his throat, Spike whips his duster off and throws it to the floor. His shirt hangs open, revealing a carved chest, gleaming silver in the dim light of the hall. He lunges forward with blurring speed, grabbing Buffy around the waist and pulling her sharply to him.   
  
"Not trying to leave, are you, luv?" His voice washes over her and she closes her eyes, absorbing the sound.   
  
Her eyes snap back open and lock onto him. "Never." He grabs ahold of the back of her dress and pulls. Hard. Already ripped and half-open, the dress tears apart at the seams like tissue paper. It flutters to the floor, scraps of fabric lying around them like ticker tape. Thoughts of right/wrong, Slayer/Vampire evaporate like so much steam, burnt out of both their minds by this raging need. The only thought present is lust. Unchecked, it drives them on.  
  
With a few more steps, they fall onto the stairs. Half-crawling, half-climbing, the tangled pair struggle up the steps, Buffy on her back, clawing at Spike in a fevered and failing attempt to strip him. Partway up, Spike clamps his arm around her waist and holds her to him, continuing on and letting her bare feet drag up the steps to the top. His blunt teeth bite nuzzle her neck and she moans, low and deep. Finally, they collapse on the landing, grappling with their mouths again, unwilling to release each other's lips in their hunger. Constant contact or they whimper like wounded animals. Buffy feels her temperature skyrocketing and her pulse racing double time. She turns and crawls toward her room, watching Spike over her shoulder. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip as he watches her still-clothed ass wiggle its way across the hall. With a noise caught between a growl and a purr, he is on her again, rolling her back down on the carpet. Holding her down with his lower body, Spike leans back a little bit. Buffy pants, eyes narrowing as he presses against her pelvis, his erection plain under his leather pants.   
  
"Take. Off. Your. Pants." She enunciates every word, punctuating her demand with a snarl that is almost a smile. He matches her with an upward twitch of his mouth and stands up, towering over her prone body. Ever so slowly, Spike drags the zipper down on his pants, kicks off his boots and slides the leather down his sleek body. Now completely naked, he stands over Buffy for a second, a Greek god, carved in stone. The anguish of not yet having her is plain in his face, eyes flickering from blue to gold, skin tight with a failing self-control.   
  
Buffy stands up quickly, startling Spike by sliding one hand around his neck and jerking his head down to hers again. He leans into her, bruising her lips with his kiss. Their momentum takes them onto the floor once again, near the open door of her bedroom. Buffy tastes blood in her mouth and realizes Spike's fangs have elongated in the midst of their kissing. Spike fights his demon back down briefly to meet her gaze. Her eyes, glowing with want, meet his defiantly, daring him to return to her mouth. He moves back to her lips, eyes still on hers. She meets his silken lips, her tongue dancing into his warm mouth. The fresh blood is there for his taking. He sucks on her tongue, softly and then with more insistence, drawing the blood out. She groans, matching his low hum of pleasure. Finally, they break apart, out of breath and trembling.  
  
Buffy's leg slides up the back of his, opening herself to him. Spike's hand slips down her belly and into her panties. She is dripping wet and it becomes obvious she needs and wants no further delay. Her invitation to him is engraved. Spike pulls his hand away, tearing her panties with it. Snatching her bottom lip between his teeth, he rams into her in one swift motion.   
  
Blinding, scorching heat is the only sensible thought left in Spike's brain. He is having sex with the molten heart of the sun. Buffy screams as he fills her, nearly quenching her voracious appetite with his single thrust. Nearly, but not quite. Her legs tighten on his back, demanding that he continue. And hurry. While they are finally linked, it has done nothing to deaden their appetite. He begins to pound into her, relentless in both his force and speed. A cry of pleasure and pain escapes her with every new invasion.  
  
She tries to form words. Not since her demand for Spike to remove his pants has she been able to nail down any coherent thoughts. Want him, take him, eat him alive have come to mind. But this, this feral sex. This is beyond words. There is possession and taking and scratching and oh god. Buffy locks her hands behind Spike's neck, rolling with every thrust, her body absorbing the impact. Only a Slayer and a vampire could take the brutal force generated between them. Minutes later, her hands scrabbling over his cool skin, they rise and rise, seeking climax. Spike does not relent, sweltering in her depths. Finally, they feel the onrushing flow of orgasm. Spike's mouth has wrapped around Buffy's nipple, sucking and teasing. One hand slips down between her legs. Dragging her to the peak with him, kicking and screaming. Literally. With one cleansing roar and a prolonged moan, they come together. Suddenly boneless, they end up in a sweating, overheated heap on the floor. Spike's head rests on Buffy's chest as she runs her fingers through his tousled hair, breathing hard. Her eyes focusing, she sees the angry red welts on his back and realizes she caused them.   
  
Within a few minutes, Spike and Buffy feel the heat building again. Every point where their skin touches is a spark of contact, awakening the urge, the lust. Spike lifts his head to meet her eyes and sees the same as he feels. With only a touch of the urgency taken away by their first encounter, Spike finds time to smile at her. She matches it, slow and seductive. Their minds may be out of the picture at the moment, but their bodies know what feels good and this is it. The first round was about releasing a blinding, bottled-up explosion of lust. This one is going to be different. Neither has been about much in the way of sanity. Getting to his feet, Spike bends down and takes Buffy by the hand. Taking his offer, she is swiftly thrown over his shoulder. Smacking her on the bottom, Spike chuckles and strides into Buffy's bedroom. He flips her down onto the edge of her bed, standing between her legs. Sleek muscles rippling in his back, he reaches down with one hand, cupping her breast gently, rolling it in his fingers. Buffy leans back on her elbows, drawing him closer. He can see the shallow breaths in her chest, tiny droplets of sweat glistening. Drawn to her flame, his hungry mouth goes to her delicate neck, kissing and nipping his way down it. Buffy matches him, tasting his cool skin with her blunt teeth, leaving tiny red marks on the alabaster skin of his neck. Spike groans as she pinches the skin between her teeth and sucks, marking him as hers.   
  
***  
  
"Wow, uh, do you think you might have overdone it, honey?" Psyche stares, eyes popping, into the still pool as Spike lunges on top of Buffy again. She deftly flips him on his back and straddles him.   
  
Cupid laughs, a low seductive sound. "Psyche, love, that's what I do. I remind humans that lust is powerful. But love, even more so. These two have no idea what is coming. I am going to.. holy mother of Olympus, I didn't know a mortal could DO that!!" Cupid's eyes widen and Psyche covers her mouth as the sexual gymnastics continue below them. She giggles quietly.  
  
"They are quite the physical specimens, aren't they?" She cocks her head, giving Spike a bit more study.   
  
Cupid casts her a sidelong look as he sees her subject of interest. "That's enough, love. Remember me?"   
  
"Uh-huh." Her eyes do not move, locked on the writhing pair, Spike's muscles gleaming in the moonlight. "Oh, I mean, of course, sorry, darling. Got a little distracted." Her china doll cheeks flush red as she looks away and back at Cupid. "I've just never seen you...uh...affect two people quite like that. It's...amazing. Gives me...ideas." Her smile turns tempting as she gives her lover the once over.   
  
"Is that right? Maybe she is not the only mortal that can do...that?" Cupid gestures back at the pool, eyes locked on Psyche.   
  
"Maybe. And perhaps he is not the only non-human capable of...that?" Her eyes widen as she nods back to the water at Spike as he makes Buffy scream.   
  
"Let me remind you, my dear. I am the god of love, with all the perks that entails. Let us leave them to it and make our own fun..." He moves toward Psyche, who squeals and leaps up, dodging his hands as she makes for their silken bed, laughing all the way.  
  
  
*****************  
Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews, everyone! I'm so glad people are enjoying this fic - keep 'em coming! A few people have asked if there is an NC-17 version of this fic and where to find it. Up 'til this chapter, I haven't edited anything. However, I took out just a few bits to keep this chapter to what I think is R-rated. To see the NC-17 version, go to my website at http://www.angelfire.com/va3/tiana. The differences are fairly minor, but since people asked, I'm telling. :) Enjoy and remember, I type faster with good reviews!  
-Tiana 


	7. Chapter 7: The Morning After

*****  
Chapter 7: The Morning After  
*****  
  
  
A warm glow begins to fill Buffy's room. Buffy squints her eyes, seeing by the amount of light that it is just after dawn. She begins to stretch, but quickly recoils, flinching. Her hand finds her side quickly, where a low burning pain reminds her of one of the previous night's events. She turns a bit, trying to get a look at the place she was stabbed. The wound is opened again, and still a bit red around the edges. Buffy freezes, noticing several things all at once. First, she is completely naked. Second, she is covered in small bites and scratches and is incredibly sore in some very interesting places. Third, the cause of the first two things is sound asleep in matching condition next to her, one leg draped over hers. And that cause is none other than Spike.   
  
"Oh, dear god." Buffy covers her mouth as images from last night's adventures begin rolling through her mind at light speed. Her cheeks flush red. Inexplicably, she also feels a warmth somewhere much lower. She glances at Spike's rumpled blond curls and has to resist the urge to reach out and run her hand through them. His face at rest is a thing of beauty and she cocks her head, studying him. In all their time fighting and nearly killing each other, she has never seen him at peace like this. Those cheekbones you could cut yourself on, his full, soft lips. The eyes full of blue fire she remembers vividly from last night. A small sigh escapes Buffy, torn between longing and regret. Reluctantly, she pulls her eyes away and looks around the room for a robe. In her shock at waking up entangled with Spike, she did not previously notice the state of her room. Most of the covers from the bed are yanked off and crumpled on the floor. A nightstand is knocked over, lamp broken, closet door off the hinges, cracked mirror, various knick knacks strewn all over the carpet... Buffy shakes her head at the damage as well as her vivid memories of how most of the damage was done. They broke more things than they ever have in a fight. Not to mention the having of a lot more fun.  
  
Finally, she spots her short gray robe draped over a chair in the corner. Now, to disentangle herself. Biting her lip, Buffy tries to slip out from under Spike's leg. He starts to move and she freezes in place, watching his face closely. Shifting a little, he settles back down, turning his head the other way. Revealing the series of hickeys down the side of his neck. Buffy inwardly groans at her handiwork. Finally, with one continuous movement, she extricates herself from the bed and tip toes towards the corner. She reaches out for the robe and...  
  
" 'Morning. " He's awake and his voice is like syrup, dripping over her. Buffy freezes, not sure what to do. Then realizing her bare butt is on display, she snatches the robe and throws it on before turning around. "Spoiling the view, Slayer." Taking a deep breath, Buffy turns to see the face she remembers. Smirking, eyebrow lifted at her. She feels that familiar warmth somewhere below her navel at his gaze.   
  
"Sorry." Desperate for distraction, Buffy starts to pick up a few things from the floor. As she bends over, an involuntary gasp slips out and she grabs her side again.   
  
In a flash, Spike is out of bed and by her side. "Bugger all, luv. You're still hurt. Shouldn't be out of bed." He winks at her and before she can swallow it, Buffy smiles at him. The smiles turns back to a grimace as another pain shoots up her side.   
  
Slightly out of breath, Buffy manages, "Nice try." She takes another breath and has to bend over at the waist again. "Oh crap, looks like you're right." Shrugging off his arm for support, Buffy struggles back to the bed and sits down. "Doesn't usually take me this long to heal...it's weird."  
  
"Buffy, when's the last time you...uh..." Spike gestures around the room, his meaning evident. "...immediately after acquiring a knife wound? And, somewhere in the neighborhood of six times?"   
  
The blush returns to Buffy's cheeks. "Point taken." A weak laugh. "Literally, I guess." More quietly, "Was it six times?" Her blush returns with a vengeance.   
  
He nods before turning his attention back to her injury. "Let's have a look at it."  
  
Buffy sits up, her voice unnaturally high, "Look at what?!"   
  
Spike gives her an exasperated look. "The injury, pet?"  
  
"Oh, right." Buffy is terrified of letting Spike touch her again. Her self-control in his presence is not of the good. In fact, his current state of nakedness is wreaking havoc on her ability to string sentences together. A voice in her head is telling her she should be throwing him out of her house. However, she can't even bring herself to throw him out of her bed. Though throwing him ON her bed seems like a fun idea. She shakes her head, coming back to the present situation.  
  
"Lay back." She nods and shimmies up the bed a bit, laying back on her pillow. Spike reaches out, gently untying the sash and sliding the silk apart. His cool fingers brush her stomach, triggering Buffy's rapid intake of breath. "Not gonna hurt you, luv."  
  
Quietly, Buffy replies, "Not worried about you hurting me." He flicks a look at her, full of telltale signals, but she studiously avoids his gaze. Spike pushes one side of the robe open to see the wound.   
  
"Bloody hell, Slayer. It's open again. Y'know, I was gonna dress this for you last night...before...um, didn't it hurt you before now?" Their conversation is strained as they dodge the topic weighing on both their minds.   
  
Still avoiding his piercing blue eyes, Buffy fidgets with the sash of her robe. "Think I was on a bit of adrenaline or something. Like when I'm in a big fight, I don't feel any pain. Kinda like that... Didn't feel it 'til I woke up." Buffy risks a look at Spike, but regrets it immediately. The flush runs right up her neck and into her cheeks. She sees his throat bob as he swallows hard.   
  
"Right." Looking away, she is not prepared for what comes next. Spike's fingers gingerly touch the area around her stab wound. She flinches, but only from surprise. He is being incredibly gentle, probing the area. "Probably be fine if it gets wrapped up tight. Keep it from opening again. Healing skills like yours...all better in no time."  
  
Buffy realizes that Spike is nervous too. It never occurred to her that he could be. He is also trying not to look at her too much. It is his habit to breathe like a human and she realizes his breaths are a bit short and fast. The muscles in his jaw are twitching.  
  
"Spike?"   
  
"Yes?"  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"You got stabbed, pet. Vampire with a knife? You don't remember?" He looks at her curiously.   
  
"Not what I mean. What happened here?" With a sweep of her hand, she encompasses the room. For the first time, she sees the discarded clothes out in the hallway too.   
  
Spike lets out a big breath, relief evident that the topic is on the table. "Holy hell, Buffy. I've got no soddin' clue. One minute, I'm heading for my crypt, next minute I'm here. And then..." Again, he looks at her pointedly. "Well, you were there."   
  
"Boy howdy." Buffy strives to contain the enthusiasm that crept into her voice, but Spike picks up on it. His slow grin at her melts some places she was trying to keep solid. "I mean, yes. Present and accounted for. Something, uh, obviously happened to us, 'cause otherwise we would never..."  
  
"Yeah, definitely. Never." Spike nods, not looking at her. He's finding it very difficult to not be touching her. The air between them is thick with tension, most of it sexual.   
  
Buffy squeaks, "Not that you're not..." She can't finish the sentence.   
  
"Right, and you're certainly..." He gestures towards her half-revealed body.  
  
"Well, obviously, we can't ever do that again." Buffy strives for certainty, but her statement comes out more like a question.  
  
"Why not?" Spike turns to her, fire building in his eyes. She squirms.  
  
"Um..because..." Despite the hundreds of reasons flying around her brain, Buffy is having a hard time latching onto one. Her eyes light up, finally, "Because we hate each other!"   
  
"Oh, that." Spike shrugs, looks momentarily defeated.  
  
Buffy frowns. He wasn't supposed to agree so readily. It has not escaped her attention that Spike is still fully unclothed. His hand is resting absently on her stomach and she feels her skin flaring up from the contact. Seeing her expression, Spike's face takes on a look of cunning. She's seen that look before. It becomes slightly hard to breath in the room.  
  
"Well, we hated each other last night and that didn't stop us, Slayer." His eyes are glinting at her. She's rarely seen him in anything close to daylight and is now intrigued by the gentle blue of his eyes.   
  
"Truuuuue." Buffy looks at him, eyes flicking down to his mouth and back to his eyes.   
  
"And I am stuck here all day, luv." Spike points at the window. "Sun's up."  
  
"Yes, yes. You make a good point."  
  
"Let's not forget, pet. It was bloody amazing." His hand is starting to move, lazy circles on her abdomen. The melting sensation is traveling outward, making her legs get weak.  
  
"Yeah." Softly, Buffy can't help but agree as he leans down and kisses next to her navel, his eyes burning up at her. She starts to lean forward, but immediately regrets it. "Owwie." Flopping all the way back on the bed, her hand goes to her side. The spell is broken as Spike pops up, concern etched on his face.   
  
"Time for that later, s'pose. Let's get you fixed up." Spike reaches out a hand and Buffy takes it, sitting up very slowly. "Shower first. Then bandages." His eyes twinkle at her, mischief in the forefront. Buffy looks at him out of the corner of her eyes.   
  
"I'm not sure I can make it on my own, Spike. Help me?" She bats her lashes at him before mentally studying his naked body with her eyes. He looks just as good in the morning as he did last night.   
  
"Abso-bloody-lutely." He gently pushes her in front of him, towards the bathroom. Just as she reaches the door, he snatches the robe off her and gives her butt a playful slap. Giggling, Buffy grabs his hand, yanking him toward the bathroom, her side forgotten for the moment...  
  
  
  
**************  
Author's Note: Thanks for all super reviews, guys! So glad everyone is enjoying this fic - keep 'em coming! - Ti 


	8. Chapter 8: Hot or Cold?

*****  
Chapter 8: Hot or Cold?  
*****  
  
  
With Spike's help, Buffy perches on the edge of the bathroom counter, flinching at both the movement and the coolness of the formica. Spike moves to stand between her legs. "Hot or cold?" His smile invites all kinds of comments, but Buffy just throws him a look.  
  
"Hot."  
  
"Your wish..." Spike moves away and leans over the bathtub, turning on the water to get it hot. "Looks like it will take a minute to heat up."  
  
Buffy blurts out, "Doesn't take me that long." Gasping at her words, Buffy slaps a hand over her mouth in horror. Spike stays immobile where he is, leaning over, but she can almost see a tremor run through him. He turns his head and glances back at her, eyebrows lifted. Her expression is priceless, as she is trapped between burying her head in her hands with embarrassment and grabbing his bare ass just a few feet away. Spike turns back to the bathtub without saying anything. He puts both hands on the edge of the tub and looks down for a few seconds. She can see the muscles in his arms twitch and contract. Finally, with a nearly imperceptible nod, Spike spins and returns to the spot between her legs. His hands immediately go to both sides of Buffy's face. She drops her hand, the directness of his gaze startling her to attention.  
  
"Buffy. We both know something bloody strange is happening with us, between us. I honestly don't know what it is, what started it, anything. I do know it's doing one hell of a number on me, for one. So, I only have one favor to ask."  
  
Silently, Buffy nods, asking him to proceed, shocked and relieved by his revelation. Glad to know she is not the only one continuing to lose control. What seemed right last night is still looking pretty damn good in the light of day. And that scares her. His hands on her face are making it hard to concentrate, but not nearly so hard as feeling his bare legs between hers. She hears the water gushing behind him, the only sound in the room beyond her rapid breathing.  
  
Spike cocks his head at her, one side of his mouth twitching up. "Don't tease me unless you mean it."   
  
Distracted momentarily from the shower at hand, Buffy pulls Spike's hands off her face and leans forward, her mouth less than an inch from his ear. If not for his vampiric hearing, he would not even hear her words, but he does.  
  
"I mean it." The hot breath warms his skin as she takes his earlobe between her teeth. Spike jumps slightly, but recovers quickly. His hands shoot around her waist to steady himself, deftly avoiding her injury in the process. Her tender lips move down, placing a kiss just below his ear. And a trail of them down his neck, dusting gently over the violent red marks she left last night in a more frenetic state. She is almost apologizing for the hickeys with every brush of her lips. Turning her head, she finds the hollow of his neck and presses her mouth there briefly.   
  
Pulling her head back, her eyes meet his baby blues. Seeing her hooded but clear eyes softens Spike's expression considerably. She is all there and aware of what she is doing. No question of alcohol or flights of nighttime fancy. It is morning and her lips still seek his. His notions of continuing to hate her are having a tough time finding anchor. He can't understand the turnabout from last night, but Dru's words in Brazil come back to haunt him. 'You're all covered with her. I look at you...all I see is the Slayer.' He came back to Sunnydale to kill her, get the Slayer out of his system once and for all. Only this last time, he got the soddin' chip in his head. Now, he can't kill her. And well, turns out he doesn't really want to. Spike grimaces, damn Dru. Crazy, but knowing. It goes against all things about being a vampire, but he really doesn't want the Slayer dead.  
  
Her brow is slightly knitted as she watches him deep in thought. The tightness in his mouth releases as he pushes these thoughts back down. Time to worry about what this will all lead to, if anything, later. Much later. Right now, he has a warm, naked and apparently willing Buffy in his arms. Best to stay in the moment.  
  
Steam covers the mirror in the bathroom and is starting to cloud the room. He jerks his head towards the shower, "Shall we?"  
  
Buffy swallows, eyes going wild for just a second. Brief moments of what-the-hell-am-I-doing keep interrupting her fun. She quickly squelches this hesitation and holds out her hand. "We, huh? Thought you were just helping me?"   
  
"Where better to help you?" Eyes twinkling, he helps her off the counter. He puts his hand into the water, making sure it is not too hot, before stepping under the stream. Buffy clutches his other hand even tighter as she watches the water course down his body, dipping into every curve and swell. Those nagging voices in her head shut up in the face of this display. Finally ripping her eyes of his sculpted torso, she meets his gaze. Somehow his blue eyes look dark when he wants her...and he does want her. Still holding his hand, she takes the first step into the stall. She shivers as the first stream of hot water hits her back. Facing him, she arches back, letting the hot water soak her hair.   
  
Spike finds it very difficult to not slam her against the wall and have his way as she presses her breasts towards him with this movement. Rivulets of water come over her shoulders, running down her chest. He follows one with his eyes as it courses between her breasts, through her navel before disappearing between her legs. He shudders. She stands back up, hair slicked back, face already flushed from the heat in the room. Or something else? Spike leans closer, watching the effect on her face with interest, but then leans past her, grabbing the soap and a washcloth from the rack behind her. Holding them up for her inspection, he cocks an eyebrow. Buffy lets her tongue slip out to wet her lips, and nods.   
  
Spike rubs the soap into the washcloth, watching her the whole time. Buffy can feel the heat of the water bringing the blood to the surface of her skin and the heat from his presence is only making her skin more sensitive. So sensitive that when he finally touches her with the wet, soapy washcloth, she can't hold in a gasp.   
  
"Okay, luv?" His voice is deep and close and makes her want to dissolve into him.   
  
"Ye-yes." Spike's hand moves the washcloth over her shoulders, his touch lightening when he crosses indications of last night's fun. Scratches, small bites. He allows himself a small smile as he remembers giving her these marks in the heat of passion. His chip never went off. Not once. He hasn't figured that out yet, but maybe it has something to do with intent. He wraps the cloth around Buffy's arm and drags it down, leaving soap bubbles behind. The water quickly flows after, washing her clean. He repeats this with the other arm. She is immobile, watching his every move. He can feel her hazel eyes burning into him. Her heat is intoxicating; it rolls off her in waves. Spike lightly works the cloth around her injury, removing the dried blood with his left hand. The right hand goes to her other hip, holding her still for his attention.   
  
As he begins to soap her breasts, Buffy moves a step closer to him, bringing her inches from his body. Her bronze skin glistens with foam and water as she slowly presses against him, soft breasts crushing against his firm chest. Spike's breath catches in his throat as she makes contact. She takes the cloth from his hand and squeezes it over his chest. The soapy liquid runs between them, coating them both. Lifting her eyes to his, Buffy reaches around and gives the cloth another squeeze over his back. He can feel the trailing water down his back and now her hand. She drops the cloth and traces his spine with her fingers. Spike has both hands on her hips now, holding her to him in the sauna of the shower. His hair has gone curly in the damp and she reaches up with her other hand and gently musses it, smiling at him. As her hand leaves his hair, it slides down to cup his cheek, drawing him down to her. Their lips meet, hot water still flowing over both them as they back under the stream of the shower.   
  
Buffy flinches slightly as she feels the cool tile behind her, but the steam coming off her body quickly warms it. Spike moves in closer, pressing her against the wall by his hand on her hip. The other hand slips lower, circling on her navel for a few seconds.   
  
"Oh god." Buffy remembers her vivid dream of just 24 hours before. She was in the shower then, alone, but she imagined Spike. Doing exactly what he is doing now. Only it's better than the dream. So much better live and in person. His fingers slip lower, dipping slowly into her. She lifts off the ground on her tiptoes. His mouth dives for hers, warm and supple against her. The artificial heat he has from the hot water throws Buffy for a loop. Easy to pretend he is 100% living and breathing. His body warm against hers, his breath against her neck as he moves down to kiss her there. His hand moves slowly, now more quickly. She is slick from both the water and arousal. Bringing his face up again, Spike leans forward and presses his forehead against hers, their eyes focused on only each other. Buffy begins to breathe through her mouth as he sends her higher and higher, closer and closer with every thrust. Her eyes start to slip closed, but the squeeze from Spike's hand on her hip gets her attention.   
  
"Look at me, luv. Keep looking at me." She bites her lip and keeps her eyes on his. The connection is intense. Too intense. She squirms a bit. There is something naked in his eyes, more than lust, and she is scared. Scared he can see it in her eyes, too. He will not relent though. His voice drops even lower and quieter.  
  
"Don't look away, Buffy." Using her real name still makes Buffy jump to attention. Somehow, the way he says it is so intimate, so private. As if Buffy was her name for his use only. Despite her fear, Buffy keeps her eyes open. His pace increases and she starts to breathe out small sounds, gasps and moans. Waves of sensation wash over her and the sounds grow louder as she comes, full force. Her knees buckle, but Spike has her, his arm wrapped around her waist. With a nearly audible snap, Buffy breaks their eye contact by going in for a kiss. Wet and warm, his mouth melts and invites her tongue in. She explores him thoroughly with her darting tongue. Finally, out of breath, she pulls back and leans against the shower wall, welcoming the additional support.   
  
Still breathing hard, Buffy manages, "I think we may be clean enough for now."   
  
Spike looks at the delicate girl in front of him, so full of hidden power. Her cheeks are flushed, her hair wild and wet, her whole body gleaming with soap and water.   
  
He can't get enough. He smiles at his Slayer. "For now."   
  
  
*************  
Author's Note: Oops! I inadvertently posted the NC-17 version of this chapter here on ff.net. I've now replaced it with what I think is an R-rated version. To see the unedited take, visit my website at http://www.angelfire.com/va3/tiana. The changes are minimal, but it is slightly more graphic. Thanks for the great reviews! 


	9. Chapter 9: Exposure

*****  
Chapter 9: Exposure  
*****  
  
Spike pulls a white fluffy towel off the shelf and unfolds it. The room is still warm from the steamy shower, but Buffy welcomes him wrapping her in the towel, gently massaging her dry. Taking great care not to rub her wound, he snugs her up in the towel before reaching for one himself. Buffy smiles, a slow, contented smile as she watches him rub his hair half-dry and then briskly dry his body with the soft towel. He looks up as he feels her gaze, wrapping the towel around his waist.   
  
"Alright, luv. Let me bandage up your side before anything else...happens." Spike winks at her and opens the door to the bathroom. He steps out into the hallway, still watching Buffy as she wraps a towel around her wet head.   
  
"Buffy, is that you? I got worried when you didn't - Ack! Not Buffy! Not Buffy!" Willow stumbles as she reaches the top of the stairs, and covers her eyes as she squeals.   
  
Momentarily taken aback by Willow's appearance, Spike recovers quickly, " 'ello, Red."   
  
Eyes still covered, Willow whispers, "Uh, Sp-Spike?? What are you - I thought you - does Buffy know you're here in her house? And naked?" Her voice pitches higher on the last word as her cheeks turn even redder.  
  
"Not naked, got a towel on. And yes." Spike crosses his arms in front of his chest and can't help but chuckle at the witch's reaction.  
  
"What's going on out here? Spike, who are you - Willow!" Buffy steps out into the hallway behind Spike, eyes wide.  
  
"Buffy!" Willow uncovers her eyes, mouth hanging open. "Again with the towel! Isn't anyone here wearing clothes besides me?!" She slaps her hand over her eyes again.   
  
"Uh, Willow. What are you doing - why - oh, this is not good." Spike stands between the two girls, waiting to see what will happen next. Buffy turns to him and points at her room, "In the bedroom. Now!"  
  
"Buffy, luv, don't you think you should talk to Willow before we -" He jerks his head at her room, eyebrows lifted, a grin on his face.  
  
"Argh! Spike! GO before I stake your undead ass!"   
  
Spike lifts his hands in surrender, "Going, going. No need to threaten a dusty end, pet."   
  
Meanwhile, Willow can be heard muttering under her breath. "Can't be. Buffy. Spike. Slayer. Vampire. With the hating, they can't be...oh god. Buffy?"  
  
Shoving Spike towards her room and shutting the door behind him, Buffy comes over to Willow. Gently, she pulls her hands away from her eyes.   
  
"Wait! Is Spike still here - with the chest and the..."  
  
"He's gone for now, Will. Let's go downstairs." Willow looks at Buffy, her green eyes wide and nods.  
  
Buffy and Willow end up in the living room on the couch. Buffy adjusts her towel, trying to cover herself as much as possible to settle Willow's nerves.  
  
Eyes wild, Willow gestures up the stairs and at Buffy, "Buffy! What the - what is he doing here? What happened? Please give me a plausible reason that has nothing to do with sweaty nakedness. Please?"  
Buffy dips her head, avoiding Willow's eye contact. "Okay, give me an implausible reason. I'll believe it - promise! Like his clothes caught on fire and you were forced to strip him and give him a towel, for modesty's sake. And then your clothes were all sooty, so you got the towel..." Her voice trails off.   
  
Buffy's mind is swirling. She wants him, is still imagining his hands on her body, but Willow's presence is making her more and more confused. It's true, she is supposed to hate him. She has many reasons. Not the least of which is that he's tried to kill the very girl, her best friend, sitting across from her. Buffy shakes her head, willing her thoughts to fit back together in a sensible manner, with no luck.  
  
"Will...I..can't explain it. I'll try."  
  
Willow nods furiously, waiting for the explanation.  
  
"Spike and I had sex." Buffy shrugs at Willow, deciding not to soften the blow. "A bunch of times."  
  
"Ay! Buffy! That is not an explanation. That is a statement. And a statement that is making me woozy. I need to sit down."  
  
"You are sitting down."  
  
"Not the point, young lady! What are you thinking? It's SPIKE! Vampire! Evil vampire! Grrr!" Willow waves her hands around emphatically.  
  
"Will, I know. It's weird and bizarre and I really can't offer any good reasons, except it feels right and amazing. I've been so unhappy since...well, since Angel left. He is making me feel like myself again. All fight-y and peppy. Go me?" Buffy tries a little inspirational punch in the air, but Willow is too distracted to notice.  
  
"Oh, it's my fault, isn't it? Aftershocks from my do-thy-will spell? Will I ever make up for that damn spell? My will should never be done!"  
  
"Willow!" Buffy takes Willow by the shoulders and shakes her lightly. "Pay attention to me." Buffy has a moment of absolute clarity, which is almost as scary as the confusion. Willow wiggles a little, but finally relaxes enough to meet Buffy's eyes. "Okay? Okay. Whatever is going on between me and Spike - I don't think it is your fault and I don't think it has anything to do with the spell. I'm not saying there couldn't be some weird mojo going on, but I'm still me. I am fully aware of what I am doing. And so is he. We're not getting married or planning to raise little blond half-vamps, okay?" Willow nods, swallowing hard and opening her mouth. "Ah-ah! Not done yet. Whatever this is, it has made me feel truly alive, Will. I...I...can I just enjoy that? Please?" Buffy's eyes are pleading. Willow opens her mouth, but closes it again. Buffy nods. "Go ahead. I'm done for now."  
  
"Oh, Buffy." She sighs. "I understand. When Oz left, I was...well, you saw me. Devastated." Her eyes dart down to the floor. "I do understand wanting that warm and fuzzy feeling again, but Buffy. Are you sure? Spike? He can give you that feeling?"  
  
"And how, Will." The warmth in Buffy's core is starting to return as they talk about Spike. Slightly dulled by Willow's surprise appearance, her craving for him is growing by the second. "I'm not sure of anything, Will. Only that I really want him. Like, all the time. In fact, right now, I want him. I can't stop thinking about him upstairs in my bedroom alone. Am I awful?" Buffy blushes, her cheeks gone pink.  
  
"No, Buffy, you're normal." Willow lets a smile slip out. "I mean, I don't have eons of experience to rely on, but I think his top half was on the yummy side. Guessing the rest matches up?"  
  
"Willow!!" Buffy is genuinely shocked. Sometimes it is hard to remember that Willow is not the girl she met four years ago, meek and mild. Still quirky, but she has seen something of the world now. She cocks her head at her friend. "And yes, ma'am. It certainly does. But still, shock!" Buffy points at her face, where the shock still lingers.  
  
"Oh, Buffy. We don't always make the...wisest of choices, but they are our choices to make. I just want you safe. Don't get hurt?"  
  
"Like he could hurt me, Will. Slayer, 'member?"  
  
"That's not the kind of hurt I'm talking about, Buff." Her forehead is creased as she gives Buffy a serious look. "Oh, and don't tell Xander, for goodness sake. If you do, give me a warning so I can reach minimum safe distance, 'kay?" Her green eyes twinkle in amusement.   
  
Buffy lunges forward, hugging Willow around the neck. "This. THIS is why I adore you, Willow. Don't worry, I'll be fine."  
  
"Whoa, towel, Buffy!" Buffy sits back, pulling the towel back up. "I should...uh...go. I just got worried when you didn't come home last night, so here I am. You're a big girl, Buffy. I can't say I really understand the whys of this thing with Spike, but at least his chip doesn't go away when he gets a happy, eh?"  
  
Buffy nods. "It's true. 'Cause if so, the chip would be going going gone. I'm really sorry I made you worry. Try not to, okay? I have to...see what happens here. I just have to. I can't explain it."  
  
Willow studies Buffy. "Are you...sure it's not a spell?"  
  
"I'm not sure, no. Do you think you could check into it, to be on the safe side? Something that makes you extra lusty? Only just towards him. I mean, he's the one that sets it off. And I do mean off."  
  
"Okay, no more details. I'm trying to be support-o-gal, but let's not test it, okay?" Willow holds her hand up in the universal signal of stop now. "This is risky business you're in, so watch yourself. I'll get in research mode and let you know what I find out." Willow stands up and heads for the front door. "Only next time, I'm calling first." She waves and heads out.  
  
Buffy sits on the couch, mind spinning. The tingling she has been feeling has spread to her extremities. She pictures Spike upstairs in her room, naked, and has to swallow hard, getting dizzy. She mutters to herself, "Must get to him."  
  
"No worries, luv. I'm right here." Startled, she glances up to find herself looking right into Spike's stormy eyes. She looks at the hand he is offering and stands up with him. In one smooth motion, he pulls her up and drops her towel at the same time. She is suddenly pressed against his cool chest, skin to skin. He leans down to take her lips in his, just as the front door opens again.  
  
"Oh dear god! Five seconds, people! I've been gone for five seconds!" Willow shrieks, covering her eyes again. "Forgot my bag! Buffy, can you give it to me, if you're not too naked, I mean, busy?!!" Shifting from foot to foot, Willow waits by the door.   
  
With a deep chuckle, Spike snatches up her backpack from the couch and gently puts it in her outstretched hand. "There you go, luv. Anything else?"  
  
Her voice reaches its highest pitch. "No, no. Th-thanks, Spike. Bye Buffy!" Without uncovering her eyes, she fumbles for the doorknob and slips back out, mumbling the whole time.  
  
When Willow is out the door, Spike reaches for the knob and turns the lock. He looks back at Buffy, who has collapsed, laughing, on the couch. "Now where were we?"  
  
Buffy looks at him, eyes still twinkling but quickly turning smoky, "Come here and I'll show you." She wiggles her index finger at him. With a quick grin, Spike returns to Buffy's arms, dropping his unneeded towel on the way.  
  
***************  
Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews! I just love reading them. Hope you enjoy this chapter! - Ti 


	10. Chapter 10: Hunger

*****  
Chapter 10: Hunger  
*****  
  
  
A low rumble disturbs the quiet of the room. Moaning, Buffy wakes up and puts her hand on her stomach.   
  
"Luv, was that your stomach?" Spike lifts his head, expression caught between wonder and amusement.   
  
"Yeah, so? I'm a growing girl. And I'm hungry." She pokes Spike in the chest as she scrambles off the couch and him.   
  
With her weight off him, he sits up on his elbow, eyebrow raised. "Where are you going? You were keeping me warm."   
  
"Nice try, Spike. You don't need to be kept warm." Buffy puts one hand on her hip, giving Spike a look .  
  
"Alright, not the point. But you're all soft...and bloody cute when you sleep..."  
  
Buffy smiles but his attempt fails. "Again with the nice try, Spike, but I need to eat. Food, I need food. You've heard of it, right? A girl cannot live on lov-... sex alone. Cannot live on sex."  
  
Spike purses his lip, halfway to a pout. "Could try."   
  
She leans back down, bites his bottom lip as she smiles at him. "Come, keep me company. Are you...hungry?" She can't even bear the thought of him being in a different room from her.   
  
His eyes meet hers sharply but he shakes his head. "No, pet, I'm alright."  
  
" 'Cause I've got blood in the fridge, if you need it."  
  
"Wha-?" For one of the few times in his undead existence, Spike is nearly speechless.   
  
Buffy hesitates, feeling rather uncomfortable at his staring. "It's for emergencies. A good Slayer is prepared for every eventuality. Even sexy, hungry vampires." She winks at Spike and wraps the discarded towel around herself. As she disappears into the kitchen, Spike slumps back onto the coach, absorbing the last few minutes. He supposes she got in the habit when Angel was here. But still, somehow, whether she meant it or not, he is touched. And hey, she called him sexy. He grins and with a bow to modesty, wraps himself back up in his towel.   
  
Spike walks into the kitchen and is greeted by the terrycloth-covered bottom of his favorite Slayer as she fishes around in the fridge for lunch. Slipping silently up behind, he presses against her and grabs her waist. She squeals in surprise and accidentally tosses a yogurt straight up in the air. With the grace he's developed over a hundred years and his inherent speed, Spike snatches it out of the air and sets it on the counter.   
  
"Buffy, you could just hand those things to me. You throw food like that and you're bound to make a mess."  
  
Still breathing hard, Buffy turns on him. "Oooh, you. Don't scare me!" She playfully slaps him on his bare chest. Her brain churns, wondering at how she and Spike can play when they are supposed to dislike each other so. But just being with him for the last twelve hours has done something to her. And more than just make her so sore she walks gingerly. She has started to appreciate his personality like she never let herself before. Still, she's supposed to want him dusty, not learn to like his finer points. Argh. And now, she finds that she hasn't take her hand off his chest where she slapped him. The heat is building between them. Again. She pulls the hand back as if burned, turning back to the fridge. Her stomach demands that she hold back her urges for at least a few minutes. Spike steps back, leaning on the island in the middle of the kitchen, enjoying the show. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, wavy and tousled from air-drying while they christened the couch. She is soft around the edges, not the hard Slayer she can be. The towel covers her from breasts to thighs, but he knows every inch hidden beneath the soft white towel. Spike is having an increasingly difficult time not getting up and throwing her against the nearest available hard surface for a shag. As Buffy continues to rummage through the fridge, he begins to assess the kitchen for ravaging potential, his mind working overtime. Countertop...about the right height for her to sit on. Fridge...would work though they would likely knock off the magnets and to do lists. Island...a bit high unless they got all the way on top. His eyes flick to the tile floor...cold, hard but always effective.  
  
"Spike? Hello?" Startled, he lifts his eyes to see Buffy, arms full of jars and containers, studying him. A flicker of amusement in her eyes makes him wonder if his intentions are that obvious. They would only be if she was thinking the same thing.  
  
"Oh, uh, let me help you." He starts to get up, but she leans on the counter, letting it all spill out onto the island. "Bloody hell, pet. You weren't kidding about being hungry." Spike leans out and grabs a jar of mayo before it hits the floor.   
  
"I really wasn't. I've worked up one hell of an appetite. Sure you don't want anything?" Buffy smiles as she turns to grab the bread off the counter and a few things from drawers and cabinets around the kitchen.   
  
Spike's eyes roll to the ceiling. Does he want anything? What kind of question is that? He wants her to forget this eating business and get over here. "Never said that, Slayer." His words are thick with double meaning.   
  
She laughs. "Anything to eat? Food-wise?" Amazingly, she doesn't tell him to shut up, like she would have two days ago. Instead, she actually laughs.   
  
He watches her, moving surely and quickly. She makes a ham and cheese sandwich and leans on the counter to eat it. Her position reveals her cleavage and Spike certainly notices. He tries to look away, tries to avoid her eyes, but he can't. She keeps her eyes locked on his, across the island, as she takes bite after bite. About halfway through her sandwich, she stands up, finally breaking away from his smoldering eyes. Spike's grip on the counter loosens slightly as he strives to maintain control, trying to let her eat before he feels that warm body in his arms again.  
  
"Mmm, thirsty...let's see..." After a trip to the fridge and a cabinet, she pours herself a huge glass of milk. She holds it up to Spike, as a toast, "Does a body good!"   
  
"Damn right. Didn't know I could thank milk for that body." Spike's offhand comment makes Buffy almost spit out her milk in the middle of her big gulp. She manages to swallow and set the glass back on the counter. Spike continues to watch her from across the island, face lit up with humor at the effectiveness of his comment.   
  
"Oh crap! How could I forget!" Buffy turns on her heel and starts opening cabinet doors, muttering to herself. "I sure hope she still keeps some here. Oh c'mon Mom!" She opens more doors 'til, "Ah-HA! Gotcha!" She spins triumphantly with her prize. A bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup.   
  
Spike raises his eyebrows but says nothing.   
  
"I just love chocolate milk, can't believe I almost forgot. Mom always used to make this for me growing up." Buffy pops the top open with her teeth and starts to pour the syrup into her milk, swirling it around and around. Looking up, she sees Spike eying her with interest. Twisting the bottle, she starts to set it upright. Catching the drip with her index finger, she says to the curious Spike, "Haven't you ever had this?" She starts to bring her finger to her mouth, but suddenly, Spike is there at her side.   
  
His voice is deeper, husky. "No, let me try it, luv." He takes her hand, where the syrup is starting to run down her finger. Stretching out his tongue, he catches the chocolate at the base of her finger and slowly, he drags his tongue back up, watching her the whole time. Buffy starts to wonder if it is all of a sudden very much too hot in the kitchen. Reaching her fingertip, Spike takes her whole finger into his mouth. She can feel his tongue washing her clean, getting every last drop of chocolate. Finally, he reluctantly pulls her finger from his mouth and lets her have her hand back.   
  
"Delicious." His voice is warm, vibrating with lust. His eyes on hers make it hard to concentrate and she's not altogether sure if he's referring to the chocolate.   
  
Feeling her face beginning to flush, she takes his hand in hers. "Isn't it, though?" Upending the bottle, she pours a long stripe across the palm off his hand. He groans as her warm, pink tongue drags across, carefully licking up the syrup. She wets her top lip with her tongue afterwards, looking at him through her lashes. "You were right. Very tasty."  
  
Suddenly, Spike's hand goes to the back of her head and pulls her in for a brusing kiss. He tastes the chocolate still on her tongue as he presses harder, his tongue going to meet hers. Finally, she pulls away, slightly breathless.  
  
"So, what did you decide, countertop or floor?" Her eyes gleam with mischief as Spike realizes his earlier thoughts were truly transparent. A slow grin stretches across his face, matching hers. That's his girl.  
  
"Lady's choice."  
  
  
*****************  
Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews, everyone! They keep me motivated to get these chapters out as fast as possible. And if you were wondering, Cupid and Psyche return in the next installment! Enjoy! -Tiana 


	11. Chapter 11: Just a Taste

*****  
Chapter 11: Just a Taste  
*****  
  
  
"Oooh, ooh! I think she should pick the countertop! What about you, honey?" Psyche squeals, clapping her hands.  
  
Cupid grins at his love. "Well, there are upsides to both, dear. Floor, nice and secure, hard to fall down if you're already down, eh? But the countertop, well, it's exciting and different. Oh wait, I think she's made up her mind..."  
  
***  
  
With a sinister grin, Buffy replies, "Countertop."  
  
***  
  
"Ha ! I knew it ! Let him do most of the work, dearie!" Psyche grins wildly at Cupid.  
  
***  
  
Spike growls low in his throat and grabs her around the waist, lifting her off the ground. With a quick movement, he places her on the countertop with her legs dangling off the front. He dives back for her lips as he stands between her knees, hands resting on her thighs. She moans as his fingers dig into her flesh, struggling for control. Breaking contact with his lips, Buffy nips at Spike's earlobe, her tongue tracing the outside edge, hot and insistent.   
  
She breathes into his ear, "Still hungry, Spike. The syrup?" Shivering from her warm breath on his skin, Spike reaches behind him and grabs the bottle from the island to hand it to her. Meanwhile, Buffy continues to kiss her way down his neck, her hand on his cool chest. Bottle in hand, she leans back and meets his dark blue eyes. She holds it above their heads and squeezes. A long stream of chocolate drips down Spike's bare chest. Startled, he starts to open his mouth but only emits a long groan as Buffy dives to his chest. He feels the slick path of her tongue as she catches the chocolate at its lowest point. Pressing with her warm, wet tongue, she slowly traces up his chest, capturing the sweet syrup. The tip of her tongue teases his nipple as she gathers up a drip. Spike throws his head back, his grip on her thighs tightening even further. Satisfied with her work on his chest, Buffy leans back and pours chocolate onto her hand. It runs down her fingers in random patterns. Keeping her eyes focused on his, she extends her pink tongue and begins to clean her fingers, one by one. Spike's eyes dip down to follow her tongue up and down her fingers. He swallows hard as she slides one finger all the way in her mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure. Hand fully clean, she holds the bottle toward him.   
  
"Want another taste, Spike?"   
  
He reaches out and wraps his hand around hers and the bottle. "You know I do, pet. Never satisfied." Still clutching her hand with one of his, he uses the other hand to whip her towel open, revealing her completely naked body . Almost simultaneously, he tips the bottle and lets it pour down her chest in several places, watching the slow rivulets of chocolate make their way down her bronzed skin. Licking his lips, he takes the bottle and sets it on the counter. "Look at the mess I made, luv. Shall I?"  
  
Speechless in anticipation of his mouth on her body, Buffy nods, skin flushing. His tongue firm and probing, Spike leans down to her breast, lapping up the chocolate there before taking her nipple in, rolling it around in his mouth. Buffy twitches, her hands going to his shoulders for support. Methodically, with maddening patience, Spike touches her hot skin with his cool tongue, teasing both breasts as Buffy's breathing increases. Leaning back, his job almost completed, Spike delivers a devastating smile as he runs his thumb across one of her nipples, collecting a bit of sweet syrup. Buffy's eyes go to his thumb and he holds it up to her parted lips. Her tongue darts out, wetting the skin and taking the bit of chocolate from his thumb. Baring her blunt teeth, Buffy bites into the pad of his thumb, bringing her eyes to his. His throat bobs as he feels the twinge of pain in his thumb. She broke the skin slightly. She knows just what to do to get his full and undivided attention. He flinches as he feels her suck on the skin there, drawing a small amount of blood out. Unconsciously, his eyes flick to her neck and the blood he can see, can hear pumping there. God, for a taste. His mouth feels suddenly dry and he thinks maybe he should take Buffy's offer of some blood before he loses complete control and bites her. That would certainly destroy everything.  
  
"Um, Buffy?" Struggling to re-focus her eyes, she meets his gaze. Her brow furrows slightly. "S'pose I could still get that blood from you? Having a...uh...hard time concentrating." Spike is reluctant to admit that he is craving her blood, for fear she will believe he wants to hurt her. Hurting her is the furthest thing from his mind now, though it was at the top of his list two days ago. Funny how things turn on a dime.   
  
She concentrates on him, studying his expression. She sees the strain of control in the muscles of his face, his neck, in fact, his entire body. She lets a minute pass before answering him.  
  
***  
  
"No way." Psyche's voice drops to a whisper. "You don't think...she wouldn't... Cupid, love, did you shoot them again?"  
  
Cupid's eyes are wide, watching the interaction between his two subjects. "No, my dear. Only the lust arrows."  
  
"Then why? Why would she...trust him with such a thing? I mean...whoa. Do you think she will really?"  
  
"It's starting to look that way."  
  
***  
  
"Sure, you can get it." Buffy's voice takes on a strange quality, intense and rough. Reluctant to leave her warmth, Spike starts to step out from between her legs to reach the fridge, silently cursing himself for having to interrupt them. Suddenly, her knees clamp together, pinning him there.   
  
"Buffy...what are you doing... I'm sorry, luv. I just need a taste." He looks at her, wondering if she's mad at him, remembering that he's a vampire and her previous interest in staking him.  
  
"And I said you could have one." Her eyes are deep and unfathomable. Buffy's hands reach out and take his. She places his left hand on her hip, then takes the right hand and guides it to her hair. Still confused, Spike cocks his head at her. Why won't she let him go? She makes his hand gently push her hair back away from her neck, shivering from the cool contact on her hot skin and Spike's eyes widen dramatically. He starts backwards, but her Slayer strength prevents him from getting away.  
  
"Slayer! What are you playing at?" He can feel his skin begin to vibrate in anticipation and fear.   
  
"I think you know. And I'm not playing."  
  
"But...you can't mean. You want me to...?" Spike shakes his head slightly at her, disbelieving. The Slayer, Buffy, is offering him her blood? A taste of the most intoxicating nectar on this planet?  
  
"I do mean and I do want." She purses her lips in a pretty pout. "You don't want to? It sure seemed like you did."  
  
Spike swallows, his voice drops. "Buffy, I want to. God, I can't even begin to tell you. But I can't. No way."  
  
Now her expression clouds over. "And why the hell not? Not good enough for you?"  
  
"Oh Jesus, pet. I just don't think you realize what you are offering me. If I..." He stumbles over the words and the concept. "...bite you...what if I can't stop?"  
  
"You will. If you can't, I'll make you. I am the Slayer, remember."  
  
"But Buffy...why?" His chest heaving, Spike keeps his hand tangled in her blond hair as he watches her.  
  
"Can we not talk why? Because I want you to, okay? Isn't that enough?"  
  
Spike bites his lip, wondering at this creature in his arms. The tough Slayer facade is gone, replaced by a still powerful, but vulnerable girl. And she wants him. All of him. He nods.   
  
"Promise not to stake me?"  
  
"Promise not to kill me?"  
  
He smiles. Only the two of them could joke about a matter of life and death. "It's a deal." Spike stands still, eyes on hers, almost afraid to move. Finally, in slow motion, he leans forward and gently presses his lips to hers, running his tongue over her bottom lip. She opens her mouth, sending her tongue out to meet his, gently. The temperature begins to rise between them. His hand grips her hip tighter as he feels her hands run up his chest and then down again, lightly raking the skin. She does it again, harder, and he smells the blood well up on his skin. A low growl emanates from his chest. Buffy is drawing him out, elevating things quickly. She breaks contact with his lips, kisses his jaw bone, moving towards his ear.  
  
She speaks quiet and low. "Want me to go first?" Before he can figure out what she means, Buffy quickly sinks her dull teeth into his neck. Hard. He starts at the sensation, but is also immediately aroused beyond all reason. He feels the bones in his face shift and his teeth elongate.   
  
"Bloody hell, pet." His voice is cracking, but it is the point of no return. As she continues to suck on his skin, bringing the blood to the surface, he bends to her throbbing warm neck. With a delicacy he did not know he possessed, Spike kisses the skin of her neck first. He takes a deep and unneeded breath before letting the tips of his fangs touch against her skin, pressing but not piercing.   
  
She releases his neck long enough to whisper into his ear, breath hot and urgent.   
  
"Do it."   
  
In the same breath, Spike sinks his teeth into her neck in one smooth movement. His world begins to swim almost immediately. Her warm blood flows into his mouth, filled with a power and sweetness beyond measure. It is pure intoxication. The strong pounding rhythm of her heart echoes in his brain as he continues to draw in her hot essence.  
  
Buffy, surprised at how little it hurts, can feel her heart beating in her ears. His cool lips are against her neck and she logically knows his teeth are in her, but it is not what she is concentrating on. Her eyes wide open, she rests the side of her head on his shoulder, allowing him wide access to her neck. She watches his throat, sees the artery pumping in his neck, realizing her blood is filling it, coursing through him, warming him from the inside out. This is why she wanted him to bite her. To fill him like he filled her. Her need to be as close to him as possible is both comforting and overwhelming. Lost in her reverie, Buffy realizes she is becoming lightheaded. The blood is flowing fast and thick from her jugular and her conscious mind tells her there is a limit. She needs to stop him before that limit is reached. She lifts her mouth to his ear and bites his lobe as hard as she can. He flinches but does not release her. She whispers into his ear.  
  
The blood is pounding, filling him with a life force of incredible proportions. Spike knows he has to stop, is still conscious that he is biting Buffy, but it is so hard to let go. Of her warmth, her passion, her life, all being passed to him in her blood. He feels her nip his ear and realizes it is a warning. Her voice fills his head.  
  
"Spike, love. Stop." The word love gets as much attention as the word stop in his dizzy mind. Perhaps he imagined that part. But wait, stop. He has to stop. With a supreme effort, Spike takes a breath and pulls back from her sharply. The roaring in his ears begins to dim as he separates from Buffy. Knowing he is still in game face, Spike ducks his head. Her hand goes to his face, lifting it. Buffy's warm fingers trace down his sharp features, smoothing them with her touch. His face relaxes into his human guise, and the expression of worry is pronounced.  
  
"Are you okay? I think...I didn't take too much?" Her gaze is glazed and warm, slightly distant.  
  
"No, no. I'm okay. Bit on the dizzy side but I'm fine. Really. And you?" She smiles at him, trembling slightly.  
  
"Cor, pet. You are...thank you." He takes her hand and brings it to his lips, kissing her palm softly.   
  
***  
  
"Cupid! What the...what is going on here? They are falling for each other already? Am I right?" Psyche paces by the pool, smiling, unable to take her eyes off the scene below her.  
  
"It's true, love. I can't explain it...of course, I have rarely dosed any two people with that much lust. Maybe it's clouding their judgment. And then there's the fact that neither one is exactly 'normal.' This game of yours is getting better all the time, sweetie." Cupid stands up and grabs her around the waist, stopping her pacing. "Why don't we leave them alone a bit longer, see what happens? I'll give them until nightfall. Then we'll see..."  
  
  
  
***************  
Author's Note: Since it took me longer than usual to finish this chapter, I made it extra long! Thanks for the feedback so far...can't wait to read more! -Tiana 


	12. Chapter 12: Wait and See

*****  
Chapter 12: Wait and See  
*****  
  
  
Spike and Buffy stare into each other's eyes, immobilized by emotion and confusion.   
  
"Sp...Spike. Is it just me or was that really, really..."  
  
"Intense?" Spike nods as he finishes her sentence. With a sharp movement, they release each other and Spike steps away, backing into the kitchen island and stopping, watching her. "I mean...that was...I, well, look at me, I can't talk properly and you know that's not normal." He can still feel her hot blood flowing through him, making it truly hard to concentrate.   
  
"It's true." Buffy almost whimpers. Spike is too far away. The sting of his bite on her neck is barely noticeable to her fevered brain. "Do you have any explanation for this....this?" Buffy waves her hand between their still naked bodies, her breath still coming short. "And for why can't I stop wanting you?" She reaches her hand out towards him.  
  
Spike, feeling the same compulsion, grabs her hand and yanks her off the countertop, pulling her body against his. "No, luv. I can only say I feel the same way."  
  
She cocks her head to the side, looking up at him. His hard body against hers derails all trains of thought. "I've already lost interest in analyzing it. This may not be normal, but it sure feels good..." A sly smile on her face, Buffy's hands slip around Spike, sliding lower and lower. "Speaking of feeling good..." She squeezes a little and Spike jumps. Recovering quickly, he lowers his voice and his lips. Dragging her to breathlessness with his kiss, Spike hooks his hands under Buffy's thighs and lifts. She firmly clamps her legs around his waist and locks hand around his neck. "Oh god, Spike. I have to have you. Now."  
  
"Couldn't have said it better myself." Spike turns and slams Buffy against the fridge. Bits of paper are dislodged by Buffy's body. Adjusting slightly, Spike drives into her sharply with one full thrust. Lifted against the slick surface, Buffy cries out, her body desperately trying to absorb even more sensation. Her hands flail out against the fridge, wiping magnets, lists and pictures to the floor. Hearing the clatter as the magnets hit the floor and watching paper flutter by, Spike grins broadly. His thoughts on sex against the fridge were right on target. Ticker tape parade.   
  
As Spike begins to thrust into her, Buffy is forced to grab ahold of his neck again. Spike slides one hand up on the fridge for balance as the other clutches Buffy to him. Sweat slicks the surface of her skin as they fall into a familiar rhythm, smooth and steady. Rough, then gentle, building the moment with each stroke, each cry, each kiss. Spike starts to shake as he feels the pressure mounting throughout his body. He bends to her neck, his tongue gently licks the already-closing wound. Her skin hyper-sensitive, Buffy shudders, the sensation wavering between pleasure and pain in maddening fashion. He moves his cool lips to the other side of her neck, delicately nipping his way down the column, tasting her salty skin, glistening with exertion. Spike concentrates on not coming just yet, trying to prolong the sensation. He feels Buffy's breath on his face, as she tries to speak between thrusts. He slows, calming his raging body so he can meet her gaze. Her hazel eyes are dark in this light, unreadable. "Floor, Spike. Floor." His eyebrows pinch together for a second, trying to fathom what she means.   
  
Then he realizes. He backs away from the fridge, slowing their movements for a few moments. He carefully sits down on the tile, her body still wrapped around his. Buffy takes charge at that point, forcing his body down to the ground below her. They never lose contact, by the miracle of Slayer/vampire agility and strength. Buffy leans all the way forward, the ends of her blond hair brushing Spike's face, her firm breasts tempting him from above. With one fast and hard roll of her hips, she shows who is now in control. Spike moans, strong and low at the renewed sensation. She's so incredibly tight and warm, he can barely focus his eyes. Lifting up only slightly, Buffy undulates her hips again in one fluid motion, driving down onto him. His eyes roll back in his head as she smiles, wide and wicked. "How's that, Spike? Intense?" She slams her hands down onto the cold tile on either side of his head, effectively trapping him beneath her taut, muscular body. She is like an animal closing in on its prey. Spike's hands rest on her hips, rolling with the motion she continues to generate. Wave after wave of heat wash over him, a combination of her blood and her warmth surrounding him in a haze. He sees her chest begin to move more quickly as her breathing accelerates. Obviously, this position is not purely for his benefit. Her pace growing more and more frenetic, Buffy throws her head back, groaning. She, too, is trying to maintain the pace a bit longer. The view of her expression of ecstasy, her bare neck and her heaving breasts is very close to too much for Spike.  
  
"Cor, pet. I won't...make it....much... oh god." Rising to meet her as she continues to rise and fall above him, Spike can barely speak. She knows, though. She lowers her head, eyes finding his again. They communicate more eloquently through their eyes than with their words. The unguarded, raw passion sparks between them. With a few more hard strokes, she flings him into the abyss, and then follows shortly behind, her entire body wracked with tremors. They slowly fade as she feels all the strength drain from her limbs. Her arms begin to waver and she drops onto his chest, her head resting there as exhaustion begins to take her. The aftershocks fading, Spike slips into unconsciousness with her clutched to his chest, curving his body around hers, the cold tile floor his only bed.  
  
*****  
  
"Okay, I never thought I would say this, but I am officially tired just watching these two. Are you worried about them at all? I mean, honestly, how many times can they have sex before they combust...or worse, can't perform?" Psyche's eyes widen in horror.   
  
"Now, now, love. Handy side effect of the lust arrows. He won't have that trouble. As for their stamina, well, luckily you picked those two. These are not sprinters, they are marathoners. Of course, they will get tired...like now." He points at the still water, where the two in question are snuggled into each other on the kitchen floor. "Won't stop the lust, though. They will wake up wanting each other again." Cupid winks at his mortal love. He gestures toward Psyche conspiratorially, bringing her closer. "But here is what is truly fascinating, my dear. As the natural course of the arrows runs, their need for each other should begin to wane. In fact, it should have already begun to lessen."  
  
"But?" She whispers, eyes glancing over his shoulder at the sleeping couple.  
  
"It is only building between them. Growing more and more, taking on new qualities. I sense emotion between them, not just lust. Like I said, truly fascinating. I have no explanation as yet, but I will have one. In fact, I think I will try something." His eyes twinkle mischievously, his love for toying with the human, and in this case, undead heart, evident on his angelic face.   
  
"Ooh, what?"   
  
"I will not yet shoot the love arrows. I will give the lust arrow time to fade, if it ever will with these two. And see what is left."  
  
"Oh darling, it's a bit risky, isn't it? They could kill each other out from under the effects of your magic. Remember, they hated each other with a passion."   
  
"Exactly. Passion. I think it is key here. I must see what happens. Risk or no. What fun this will be!" Cupid grins, his concern for their safety far overwhelmed by his curiosity.   
  
*****  
  
"Buffy? Buffy, are you here? The front door was locked, so I came around the side...oh for heaven's sake! Could you people locate some clothes?! Today?!!" Willow jumps back after entering the kitchen door and finding the two naked bodies entangled on the floor. Buffy moans. Studying the ceiling with great concentration, she nudges Buffy with her toe, trying to wake her further. "Buffy. It's Willow. Remember me, fully-clothed friend of yours?"  
  
Stretching her arms above her head, Buffy slowly extracts herself from Spike's grasp. His sleep is deeper now that it is midday and he barely stirs. "Hey, Will."   
  
"Oh good, you're up." Absently, Willow drops her eyes to Buffy. To her dismay, Buffy's movements have now fully exposed Spike's naked body. "Holy moley, it is not safe to look directly at people in this house anymore. Like a freakin' solar eclipse or something." Reaching out wildly, Willow grabs Buffy by the arm and pulls her out of the kitchen, still avoiding the naked vampire on the floor. "Did you even pick out clothes this morning, Buffy?" Buffy shakes her head, face flushing. "Wait here." Willow disappears back into the kitchen. Buffy can hear her muttering to herself, something about "can't talk with her breasts just looking right at me like that" and then the steps of Willow heading down into the basement. Moments later, she returns, still averting her gaze from Spike as she exits the kitchen, carrying a pair of running pants and a tank top for Buffy from the laundry. She flings them to Buffy, who quickly gets the clothes on, flinching at the contact of fabric on her sensitive and sore body.   
  
"Let's sit. I've got some things to report, if you can focus your grabby hands for a few minutes?" Buffy nods and the two begin to adjourn to the living room. Buffy glances over her shoulder as they walk away, and can just see the top of Spike's blond head. "Uh-uh! Eyes front, missy!"   
  
"But he's lying on that cold floor...I should just..." Buffy starts to turn back to him, her hands burning to touch him again.   
  
"Used to sleep on a sarcophagus, Buffy. I think he can take a few hours on kitchen tile." Willow takes Buffy's arm firmly, pulling her away and into the living room. They perch on the couch, facing each other. Buffy grimaces as she tries to sit Indian style, finally settling for tucking her knees under her chin. Willow rolls her eyes as she realizes the reasons for Buffy's discomfort. "Little too much naked floor wrestling, huh?"  
  
Blushing even harder, Buffy nods. "What did you find out?" Her mind is only half on Willow, the other half wondering if she could slip away somehow, head to the bathroom and never come back so she could get back to Spike. Things seem cold and unimportant outside his presence. Shaking her head, she brings her eyes and focus back to her red-haired friend, who is already talking.  
  
"...then I checked into Hosh'aar rituals, 'cause I found a reference that those guys used to work mojo with people's hearts. Then I realized they used actual hearts, not the metaphorical type. So then...."  
  
"Willow. Sorry, but I need the abridged version. Any proof that something is messing with us?" In a secret corner of her soul, Buffy hopes Willow hasn't figured it out. It's too much fun this way.   
  
Looking slightly wounded at having her research monologue cut short, Willow sighs. "Not yet. I've still got some leads to follow, but it's hard to figure out. Like, why would someone or something make the two of you do...well, you know. To what end? Wouldn't it be better to turn you against each other, not...press you against each other?"   
  
"Well, truth be told, we already were against each other before." Willow's eyes nearly bug out of their sockets. "No, not like now, I mean we fought each other - all the time. Just that he's chipped now and all. I don't get it either." Buffy rests her chin on her knees again, face rigid in concentration.   
  
"What is it, Buffy?"  
  
"Do you think...do you think it's possible we just started liking each other?"   
  
"Without supernatural intervention? No way." Willow shakes her head, hair flying.  
  
"Gee, thanks."  
  
"Oh no, I don't mean it like that, Buffy! 'Course he could want you and all. But c'mon, it would take some freaky mojo for you two to just leap into each other's arms, right? All sudden like that?"  
  
Buffy nods. After a few seconds, her eyes light up. "Wait. I almost forgot! Pain. I had a pain before I...before we...well, y'know. My chest hurt."  
  
"You were having a heart attack?"  
  
"No, not like that. Just a sharp pain. But I was alone when it happened. And then, whammo, bring on the lovin'."  
  
Willow holds up her hand. "Right, got it." She stands up. "Well, I should hit the books again, then." Starting to turn toward the door, she hesitates. "Should I take you with me?"  
  
"No!" Buffy answers immediately, standing up quickly.   
  
"Settle down now. Just wondering...will you be okay?"  
  
"Mmm, should be just fine." Buffy lifts her eyebrows suggestively.  
  
"Don't start with the smutty talk or I'm outta here! Actually, I'm out of here anyway, but I'm still warning ya." Willow shakes her finger at Buffy.   
  
"Sorry."  
  
"I'll let you know what I find. This time, when I call, answer the phone, okay? I don't know how many more times I can walk in on scenes like these without emotional scarring."  
  
"You called? Hmm, never heard the phone."  
  
"Color me stunned." Willow shakes her head. Giving Buffy a quick hug, she slips back out the front door. Buffy leans against the door, listening to Willow retreating down the walk. A smile touches her face and she pushes off the door, heading for the kitchen...  
  
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Author's Note: Thanks for the great reviews! Keep 'em coming! -Tiana :) 


	13. Chapter 13: Gently

*****  
Chapter 13: Gently   
*****  
  
  
"Hey sleepyhead...." Buffy sits down on the tile next to the unconscious vampire. He doesn't react. She reaches out and jostles his shoulder a bit. Nothing. She leans down, putting her mouth right next to his ear, speaking soft and low. "Spike. Wake up, I need you."  
  
He twitches a bit, but does not wake. "Mmm...Buffy..."   
  
"Right here, Spike." She sits up and cocks her head. He is definitely not awake. She realizes he must be dreaming. "Vampires dream? Never thought about it..." She leans closer when he starts to murmur again, his words muffled in his throat.   
  
"Oh God, Buffy...so beautiful... I want to...don't leave me..." He trails off into unintelligible words. She smiles.   
  
"Won't leave you, Spike." She whispers these words in his ear and he smiles in his sleep. "So...he's dreaming 'bout me. So sweet. I should leave him alone for a few." Buffy pops up and turns to the fridge as he continues to makes small noises and moans. Shaking her head at the debris on the floor in front of it, she swings the door open and grabs a bottle of iced tea. Standing in the open door, she pops the top and starts to drink.   
  
From behind her, a moan followed by a low whisper, "Buffy...I love you so much..." The bottle drops from her suddenly nerveless fingers and explodes on the tile floor. She spins as the glass and liquid scatter around her and Spike starts to a sitting position, awakened by the sound. Buffy holds her breath as she realizes he was still dreaming when he said it.   
  
"Wha...what the - ? Buffy, luv, you okay?" Spike, quickly alert, looks around for the source of the noise.  
  
She finds her voice. "S'okay, Spike. I dropped a bottle."  
  
He smirks. "Thought the Slayer package gave you some protection against being clumsy, pet."  
  
"Uh, right." Cheeks flaming, Buffy stoops to pick up the shards, desperate to avoid his eyes. It was just a dream, doesn't mean he really...oh dear. Spike is immediately suspicious at her lack of retort to his comment. He stands up and starts to approach her.  
  
"You sure you're okay, Slayer?"   
  
"OW! Dammit!" She drops the sharp piece that cut her and immediately sticks the freshly sliced finger in her mouth, sucking on it.   
  
"Why don't I help you?" Heedless of the glass on the floor and his bare feet, Spike comes closer and takes her hand, gently pulling her finger from her mouth. He slides the finger into his mouth, the tiny drops of her blood burning his tongue. Her eyes focus on his and they have a strangely calming effect. Rather than exciting her beyond reason, he is somehow bringing her closer, slowing her breathing, by just looking at her, his eyes a bottomless blue. She can feel her pulse drop to a normal level as he slides her finger out of his mouth. The bleeding has already stopped on the small cut.   
  
"Now, Buffy...I'll ask one more time. Are you okay?" His eyes refuse to let hers ago, burning the truth out of her.   
  
Swallowing hard, she nods. "I'm fine. I was just...startled. You...called out in your sleep and it scared me, is all." She drops her eyes and you can almost hear the snap as the connection is broken. "We should clean this up. Oh Spike, you cut your foot!" In his hurry to reach her, Spike stepped on a piece of glass. A small pool of blood beneath his foot reveals the pain he is in.   
  
"S'alright, luv. Been cut before." He flashes her a grin. "Though I will say, feel a little vulnerable without a stitch of clothes on." He winks and she giggles at him.   
  
"I'll take care of this mess, Spike. Why don't you sit down for a sec, y'know, for safety's sake?" Buffy tiptoes over to the back door and slides on a pair of flip flops to protect her bare feet. Grabbing a broom, she begins to sweep up the glass under Spike's watchful eyes. Very watchful eyes. The tank top she slipped on is skintight. He watches the muscles of her back work as she sweeps and admires the view as she stoops to grab a piece of large glass. Realizing his interest will be quite plain in his current unclothed state, Spike looks away, attempting to think of other things. He notices the daylight streaming in the window and realizes it must be early afternoon by now. Nearly two days since his world turned on its end. All started with that dream the other night. Guess his sub-conscious knew something he didn't. That he wanted the Slayer. All this time, he thought he wanted her in the ground, but now...he casts his eyes at her busy figure and they soften in tenderness. He shakes his head, disbelieving. Could things really change this quickly? The last couple years of fighting and snappy comebacks. How could it add up to...this? Of course, they were always equally matched in battle, maybe it was just a matter of time before they found other ways they were matched? He is snapped out of his reverie by Buffy's voice.   
  
"Spike??" She is clearly repeating herself. "You in there?"  
  
"Oh, sorry, luv. Just thinking...what is it?"  
  
"I asked if your foot was alright." Spike looks down to his right foot, still dripping blood.   
  
"Well, hurts a bit." He realizes she is done cleaning. Guess he was pretty distracted. Kneeling down, Buffy takes his foot in her hand, turning it to check the bottom.   
  
"Ya think? There's a two inch gash here. Probably got glass in it, too." She shakes her head. "Just hold still."  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Spike mock salutes her and she shoots him a withering look. He grins, disarming her once again. She holds up her finger, signaling him to remain. After a brief foray into the bathroom, Buffy returns with a pair of tweezers. "Where you planning to stick those, pet?" Spike stiffens a bit in his chair.  
  
"What's the matter, Spike? Big Bad afraid of a little pair of tweezers?" She clicks them together in his direction.  
  
He gulps. "'S not the tweezers I'm worried about. It's the person wielding them."  
  
"I promise to be gentle." Spike raises one eyebrow in doubt, his one movement drawing her attention to the series of bite marks, scratches and various bruises covering his body from their recent adventures. She smiles, eyes twinkling with mischief. "No, really. I will. Dontcha trust me, Spikey?"   
  
Spike drops all his playful tone at once. "Yes, 'course." The corners of her mouth drop slightly as she realizes their teasing conversation has taken a serious turn. He holds his foot out and she sits in the next chair, taking it into her lap. Studying him as he studies her, she finally relents and turns her attention to his foot. Gently probing the injury, she spreads the skin enough to see the glinting glass still lodged in the cut. Taking the tweezers, she steadily withdraws the glass, eliciting no protest from Spike. Dropping the bloody piece of glass in the trash can by the island, she smiles at him.   
  
"See, gentle as a fluffy lamb. Well, if lambs could use tweezers, but y'know they lack the thumbs and..." Her words trail off as she looks up at Spike.   
  
"Thanks, pet. By the way, how's your side? I never did get to bandage it for you, what with all the distractions."   
  
Buffy grins a little as visions of the 'distractions' dance through her mind's eye. Pulling up the side of her tank top, she shows Spike. A light pink line is the only indication she was stabbed. "Despite my vigorous lack of rest, it healed right up. Go Slayer powers." She looks down at his foot again. "Even though I know you will heal nearly as quickly, let me get a bandage. Can't have you bleeding all over Mom's carpet." Standing up, she sets his foot on the chair and pats it once reassuringly as she leaves the room. Spike stares at his foot, her absentminded gesture, gentle and caring, leaving him a bit stunned. He honestly didn't know she had this side. The side that takes care of people, even takes care of him. He looks up as she returns, waving the gauze and hydrogen peroxide in her hands.   
  
"Girl in my line of work is always prepared. I'm like a boy scout, only female and not so much with the group camping trips." She smiles at him, her blond hair haloing her face.   
  
"Regular angel of mercy, luv." He grimaces a little as she cleans the cut and then bandages it tightly. The task at hand completed, it returns to Buffy's attention that Spike is completely and utterly naked. The warmth in her belly returns as she imagines having her way with him. Imagines him saying those words to her this time while he was awake. Could happen. Her eyes dart over him and as usual, he reads the thoughts telegraphed across her face.   
  
"Think you can walk on it?"   
  
"Think so. What did you have in mind?" His smirk reveals that Spike already has a few things on his mind. Wordlessly, she stands up and takes him by the hand. Her warm fingers entwine with his, sending a shiver up his arm. She pulls him into the living room and then suddenly yanks his arm and throws him onto the couch. Startled by her quick movements, Spike stares up at her, standing over him.  
  
Eyes sparking wickedly, she whips the tank top off and shimmies out of her workout pants. Standing there in her bronze and naked glory, she grins at him. He swallows hard, his body responding quickly to her actions.  
  
"Spike, if it's all the same to you, I'm ready to take a break from being gentle." Her tone drops on the word gentle, her voice turning thick and dripping with seduction. She straddles him on the couch, leaning down to drag her hot tongue all the way up from his navel to his neck. By the time she reaches the top, he is already breathing hard.   
  
His voice is fractured by arousal. "Sounds like a bloody brilliant plan to me."   
  
  
  
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Author's Note: Reviews, reviews? Thanks ever so. I'm really enjoying the feedback! -Tiana 


	14. Chapter 14: Shiver

*****  
Chapter 14: Shiver  
*****  
  
  
Buffy grabs one of Spike's wrists in each hand and holds them up, to either side of his head. She wriggles her hips against him and he responds with a sharp intake of air. His cock comes to life as she rubs against him repeatedly. She slides up and then down him until his erection is hard and ready.  
  
"Look ma, no hands." Her naughty smile is intoxicating. She leans down and presses her lips against his, firm and insistent, forcing his mouth open immediately and driving her tongue in. Already wet and willing, she shifts her hips and takes him into her in one movement, swallowing his gasp in her kiss. The sensation is bordering on pain, her body sore from their repeated encounters. Still, his firm chest against hers, his soft lips pressing into hers makes her forget that part, allowing her to focus on the pleasure. She raises up and drives back onto him, eliciting a deep growl from somewhere deep in his chest. With one furious burst of strength, Spike rips his arms from her grasp and takes a hold of her wrists instead. In virtually the same moment, he rolls them off the couch and onto the floor, landing on top.   
  
"Oof." Buffy grunts as she takes his weight onto her for a second. Moments later, her startlement is forgotten as he lifts slightly and then presses into her, starting below the waist and rolling all the way up her chest, crushing her breasts beneath him for a moment. The sensation is intense as he pins her down, their bodies touching from fingertips to toes. He holds his entire weight off her with his hands, but she is still covered by him, his cool skin kissing against hers in a thousand places. He renews their kiss, lips brushing against hers with increasing intensity as she opens her mouth to him.   
  
Spike's head spins with contradictory thoughts. Her soft lips, warm body make him want to live and die in her arms. Except for that small detail of him already being dead and all. Still, he feels like he belongs with her, that he belongs to her, and it is really freaking him out. He can't tell if these feelings are his own or if someone is pulling his strings. Could be magic. He breaks their kiss and looks at her, her skin flushed and glowing and he wonders if perhaps she could be magic. Magic pressed into this amazing form. Magic always has consequences...will this? Buffy has bewitched him with her grasping warm hands, her tender lips, her insatiable appetite. She is like a Siren, drawing him in, closer and closer to her rocky shore. Making him vulnerable and weak to her charms.   
  
But the look in her eyes, could that really be a trick? She shields her emotions, always has, but he has been so close to her in such intimate ways now, he has seen those wide open moments. When she forgets to drop the veil and he can see her, the true Buffy. Not just the Slayer, but the whole package. Her feelings, her heart, her soul, all of those intangibles that make her spectacular...and human. There was a time in very recent memory that he would take that vulnerability as an opening for attack. Spike leans back down to take her mouth with his. She has treated him like a man for the first time since he's known her. He doesn't want to give that up, doesn't want to find a way to hurt her. He just wants to have her look at him that way again.   
  
Buffy feels Spike's eyes on her even as she feels him inside her and his lips on her willing mouth. Somehow, the eyes are what seem to be the most penetrating. Like he is seeing something new. A flash of fear passes through her. Is this going to turn bad soon? Is he just waiting for the opportunity, for the moment when she is finally and truly unaware, completely exposed so he can swoop in for the kill? Buffy scolds herself. It's true, he's made no secret of his wish to kill her, but all that seems distant now.   
  
The only thing that seems real is him, his body, his hands, his piercing eyes, his tenderness. The last one something she had never seen before...except when he was with Dru. Buffy feels a surge of white hot heat in her belly at the thought of the crazy vampire. With a truly unsettling clarity, she realizes this feeling is jealousy. Dammit. She is jealous of what he had with Dru. Of their caring, looking out for each other. This can only mean one thing. She wants him for more than sex, for more than his insanely sculpted abs. It seemed possible to write it all off to lust-driven temporary insanity before the arrival of these emotions. She could say she swooned over his baby blues and his impressive pecs. Now... now this feeling is something altogether different.  
  
Coming out of their thoughts nearly simultaneously, Buffy and Spike re-focus on each other. A nearly visible spark flies between them. Their bodies continue to respond to each other despite the inner turmoil rocking them both. Buffy lifts her legs to wrap them tightly around his waist, angling her hips to receive him as deeply as possible. Spike drives into her again, his mouth seeking her breast. He runs his tongue around her nipple, tweaking it to attention. Buffy arches her back, pressing into him, meeting every thrust with matching strength. Spike moves to the other breast and then kisses his way up her chest, finding her mouth once again. Their kiss is bruising and intense, both of them seeking to find an anchor in the other. Feeling adrift in confusing emotions and new desire, they lock onto each other with a desperate passion, letting their bodies take control of the situation.   
  
Spike releases Buffy's wrists and runs his hands into her long blond hair. It is splayed out on the floor around her, framing her features with a golden haze. His fingers tighten as her newly free hands roam around his back. He half-flinches as he feels the fingertips at the top of his shoulders. The welts she gave him earlier are still fresh. He enters her again and he feels the slightest tightening of her grip on his shoulders. Instead of ripping her nails down his back on the next thrust, she lightly dances her fingertips down his back, avoiding the skin she tore into earlier with her whispering touch. He shivers slightly at her soft touch. Her hands keep moving, sliding into the valley where his strong back meets his butt. As Spike begins to thrust, her hands take a firm grasp of his ass and slam him into her with greater force.   
  
Her voice covers him like a rolling fog. "The Slayer, Spike. I'm the Slayer. I can take what you can dish. Show me how much you want me. Make me believe it." Spike stares at her for a split second, assessing her seriousness. The tight grip on his ass, holding him deep inside her, is enough confirmation.   
  
"You will, luv. Because I do." Spike's kiss is fierce, rough and leaves Buffy breathless. He begins his relentless assault on her body, driving his desire for her home with each powerful thrust. Every entrance forces a gasp out of Buffy's mouth, her heart rate accelerating, her skin heating, her breaths growing shorter and shorter. Their coupling reaches fever pitch, mirroring the ferocity of their first encounter the night before. Neither realizes that the magical effects that drove them together are waning. Their craving has not. It is as if they have to make up for a lifetime apart right now, right this very second. Each gasp, each impact of skin on skin a testament to their passion. She clings to him, squeezing his skin between her fingers, holding tight. She strains to keep her mouth on his as their bodies rock against each other. Their kiss is finally broken, Spike moving his mouth past hers to kiss her neck, up to her ear and down again, christening every inch with his lips. He feels it coming, knows his orgasm will be bone-shattering. His hands run up and down Buffy's body, shoulders to hips and back again. He slips one hand between them and between her legs, massaging where she is most sensitive and swollen. She screams at the sensation, his motion startling her in its quickness and effectiveness. He grabs her mouth again, nipping her bottom lip as he continues his all points attack on her senses and her body. Pressing harder with his hand, he feels her shudder beneath him. Moments later, he sends her into the abyss and then jumps in himself, his roar rattling the windows as he comes and comes. She scrambles to hold onto him as her body pulses, her muscles contracting over and over.   
  
Lying still on the floor for a few minutes, Spike and Buffy are struck speechless. The afternoon light is beginning to fade as the sun begins to set on their first full day as lovers. Neither is any closer to understanding what is happening and at the moment, they don't care for an explanation. Spike looks at Buffy in the near silence of the house, his eyes gone soft sky blue in the fading light. Thankfully, the curtains are closed and he is only washed by an indirect glow of sunlight through the fabric. His hand goes to her face, somehow deep tenderness the result of their recent and ferocious session. His fingertips touch her cheek as his thumb grazes her mouth. Buffy presses her lips against his thumb, her eyes liquid green searching his face. He sees a small tremor run through her whole body.  
  
"Cold, luv?" His voice pierces the quiet.   
  
She nods. "I think so. A little." He realizes the tremble may not have just been the chill, but decides to act on it. With his other hand, he reaches behind them for one of the throw pillows and a soft fleece blanket from the couch. Tucking the pillow under her head, he wraps the blanket around both their bodies as best he can without moving too much. Sliding off her, he rests his head on the pillow next to hers. She turns to face him. Neither is able to find many words at the moment.  
  
"Thanks." Buffy's voice seems small and childlike, shaking a bit. She feels weak all over, from both exertion and a quivering reaction to Spike's presence near her. Another tremor runs through her. Spike feels it.  
  
"Still cold?" He looks concerned.  
  
"No, no. It's not the cold." She leans closer, squeezing her lids tightly together as her lips meet his. He feels the trembling in her lips and pulls back a bit.   
  
"What is it, Buffy?"  
  
Her mouth refuses to cooperate with her attempts to speak and her brain tries to shut down completely before she can form a sentence. She struggles on.   
  
"I can't stop feeling, Spike. I...thought...this was just a sex thing, but if so, why am I feeling this way? Why can't I stop shaking?!" Her voice rises slightly in alarm.  
  
Spike runs his hands up and down her arms, as if to warm her. "I don't know, Buffy. It's...I'm the same way. Could it be...no." They are mere inches apart, heads on the same pillow.   
  
"What?" Buffy'e eyes dart from his eyes to his mouth.   
  
"Well, I dunno if some magic is at work, but this doesn't feel like Red's spell from before. I was out of my mind then, didn't know what I was saying or doing. Not now. I know I'm here, know what I'm doing..."  
  
"You can say that again." Buffy grins at him, her confidence growing.   
  
He can't help but chuckle at her interruption. "Thanks, luv, but you know what I mean, don't you? Is it like that for you?"  
  
"It is. This is not Willow's will at work. Geez, say that three times fast. True, last night I was in a fog, couldn't think of anything but...well, you know. Crazy monkey love. But now. There is no fog. And yet, here I am." She gestures with one hand, taking in their current position.  
  
"Right. Same here, pet. What do you make of it?" There is a flash of fear in his eyes, wondering what her reaction will be. He is really laying it all on the line, treading dangerously close to exposing these fresh new feelings he has. Opening himself up for kick in the teeth or worse...her stake to his heart, literally or figuratively. Both would be painful. If he's read her wrong...  
  
"I honestly don't know. I just know one thing. I..." She stops, eyes searching his, fighting her need to be tough and invulnerable. "I think this could be...something." She half-smiles at him, afraid of his reaction to her half-admittance of feelings.   
  
"Yeah. Something." He smiles back, thinking they've pushed the envelope enough for the moment. He slips his hand over her waist, holding her against him still. Her skin is hot and moist with a light sheen of sweat. The pulse of her blood beneath the skin is hypnotic and he is soon drifting to sleep.  
  
She slides her hand around his waist, their arms entwined. Both drop away to sleep, faces nearly touching, bodies tangled and limp. More time for talk later...  
  
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Author's Note: Reviews! Have I mentioned how I love them so? Thanks ever so for the feedback!! -Tiana 


	15. Chapter 15: Rude Awakening

*****  
Chapter 15: Rude Awakening  
*****  
The sudden, piercing sound breaks the quiet in the room, causing both Buffy and Spike to jerk straight up.   
  
"Phone. Not my heart bursting out of my chest...it's the phone!" Buffy scrambles off the floor, remembering Willow's admonishment to 'answer the phone this time'. She snatches the phone from the cradle by the couch and almost yells into it, "Hello!?"   
  
"Buffy? You okay?" Willow's concerned voice comes over the line.   
  
"Sure, I'm fine. What's up?" Buffy strains for nonchalance, while she waits for her breathing to slow. She notices it has gotten dark outside as she focuses on the high-pitched voice.   
  
"Buffy...are you naked!? You sound naked!!"  
  
"Me, naked? Heck no, Will." Buffy shakes her head furiously at Spike, who threatens to burst into laughter. He settles for a low chuckle as he surveys her completely nude body from his position on the floor. She scowls at him as he raises his eyebrows at her suggestively. Buffy puts her finger to her lips, hushing him as she tries to listen to the rambling of her best friend.  
  
"Wait, what did you just say?" Buffy's eyes widen and she feels her stomach drop. All the air in the room disappears in one breath.   
  
"I said, it's magic! The thing with you and Spike! Definitely magic. I figured it out!" She can hear the note of triumph in Willow's voice, can see her proud face in her mind's eye.   
  
"Ma..magic, you say? How can you be sure?" Buffy's eyes dart away from the questioning look on Spike's face. Her voice drops. "You mean, something or someone is making us act this way?"  
  
Spike frowns as he picks up every word, despite her whispering. Magic, huh? His body goes cold...colder than normal. He wondered if it was magic, but he felt so different today. She pretty much admitted that she did, too. If it's magic, it's some serious mojo to completely fool them both. Spike studies the floor, confused. He should be relieved. Relieved because this thing with the Slayer would never work. He looks up to see her fidgeting on the phone, the early evening moonlight washing her body in silver. Somehow, he doesn't feel relieved. She seems very nervous and he notices she is becoming more and more self-conscious about being naked. She pulls another throw from the couch and wraps it around herself. He knows the Slayer well enough to see the walls going up. Buffy is shutting him out. It is almost palpable. She appears to be taking the avenue Red has opened for her. The escape from bizarre emotions and a soul-less vampire. Her words are tremulous, her glances at him furtive.   
  
"Are you serious, Will? Did you just say Cupid?"  
  
"Yes, yes. Once I had exhausted demon research, I started thinking about fairy tales and mythology. Not the first time something from the storybooks has come to bite us in the butt, right?"  
  
"Right." Buffy looks at Spike briefly. There is a noticeable tension building in his previously relaxed frame. Is he glad to hear it was magic all along? Will he take this chance to bolt?   
  
"So, I hit on Cupid! Cupid was...well, is notorious for meddling with human lives. For kicks. I found all these stories about him. And it would be funny to a god to make a vampire and the Vampire Slayer jump each other's bones, right? The whole opposites attract, love/hate dynamic, see?"  
  
"Yeah, funny." Buffy's voice is hollow. Every one of Willow's hyper words is a slap in the face. Was this feeling she was starting to have for Spike someone's idea of a joke?   
  
"So, I hit the books with a vengeance, found out about his arrows and the chest pain you had and Buffy - here's the best part!"  
  
"The best part." Buffy can't find anything to do but repeat Will's last words as she feels herself getting sadder and sadder.  
  
"It's just temporary! Sounds like he hit with you some lusty arrows and they should wear off in, like, 48 hours. Should be feeling like your normal Buffy self very soon. Fully wearing clothes and no more Spike!"  
  
"No more Spike." Buffy is facing the window as these words fall off her tongue. Too late, she realizes what she's said. The series of phrases he's just heard. The sudden movement behind her reminds her. By the time she turns, he is halfway up the stairs. The day is shattered.   
  
"Will...Will!" She manages to cut off the stream of words for a second. "I have to go. I'll get the details from you later, okay? Promise." Without waiting for a reply, Buffy cuts off the phone and tosses it to the couch, heading for the stairs. She stops at the bottom, staring up. Her heart races. What is she going to do? Follow him? Ask him not to go? He's leaving. Definitely. He must want to get as far away from her as possible 'til the mojo wears off. Why is this upsetting? It's magic. Some damn god is pulling their strings, making them feel these things, making them want these things that are so wrong. Better to let it subside. Better to let things get back to normal. Hah. Normal. What is that like? A sudden thump on the stairs freezes her, throws her heart into her throat. He is standing at the top of the stairs in his black leather pants and boots. His chest is thrown in carved relief by the dim light and she finds it hard to breathe. Her eyes move up to his and the feeling worsens. There is nothing. No spark, no passion, no playfulness. His eyes are dead. Setting his shoulders, he clomps down the steps.   
  
"Sounds like I should get going, Slayer. Good for Red for figuring it out. Smart bird. How long did she say it would last?" He avoids her gaze now, grabbing his shirt and duster from the hall floor.   
  
"Um, 48 hours or so. I mean, she doesn't know exactly..."  
  
"Right. So we should be right as rain by tomorrow night." His dark blue eyes lift to hers and she nearly gasps. She was wrong. That deadness was a veil, one that is wavering. She swears there is pain, but he looks away again before she can be sure. He turns to the door, grabbing the knob.  
  
"Spike. Wait." Her hand rests on his arm, stopping him in mid-motion. He hears the pleading note in her voice and wonders at it for a moment.  
  
He doesn't turn. "Slayer, don't. It's magic. We should just be happy it will go away." Spike snatches the door open and heads off into the night. Her hand drops to her side.   
  
Words fail her. For once, actions fail her as well. She just watches him leave, torn and confused. Willow is seldom wrong about these things. Even if it sounds funny that Cupid is involved, it's not the strangest thing that has ever happened in Sunnydale. Makes sense that these feelings were false. I mean, it's Spike. She hates him. Right? So why does it hurt so much?  
  
Spike resists the urge to look back, to see if she is still standing there. If she called out, he would probably run back and grab her into his arms again, but he knows better. That is not the Buffy way. Somehow, all this will be his fault tomorrow. She'll wake up in her sex-wrecked house and wish him dusty all over again. And he'll...he'll want her...dead again, too. Spike struggles to even think it. "Bloody fuckin' hell. This is why I hate soddin' magic." He wipes a stray tear from his face with the back of his hand and breaks into a run for his crypt.   
  
*****  
  
Cupid rests his hand on his chin, watching the lovers separate in the early, cold evening. Psyche comes up behind him and gently places her hand on his shoulder. She reacts in surprise at the tenseness she feels.  
  
"Darling? What is it? Are they fighting?" She glances down at the water and sees Buffy standing in her open door, shaking.   
  
"No, not fighting. Not anymore." He sighs. "They found out about me."  
  
"What!? You mean, they know you shot them?"  
  
"Yes. Apparently, one of her friends is a witch with considerable intelligence. She figured it out. And now..." He gestures at the water, taking in Buffy leaning on her open doorframe and Spike running through the cemetery. "It's all broken."  
  
"Oh, sweetie. But we saw something with those two. Something beyond the lust spell, right?"  
  
"Well, I thought so. I mean, I do have some experience in the matters of the heart."  
  
Pysche leans closer to the images in the pool, squinting. "Bring us closer to her, dear."   
  
Cupid looks over his shoulder at her quizzically. His gesture makes Buffy's image fill the pool. For the first time, he sees the tracks down her cheeks. "Crying. I didn't even see it." Standing up suddenly, he waves at the pool again, bringing Spike into focus. "His eyes are wet as well! This is....fantastic!!"  
  
Pysche looks slightly confused. "It is?"  
  
"Yes, my love, don't you see?! Emotion. They are both sad to know it was magic, though I prefer the term divine intervention. Anyway, not the point. Why would they be sad if they didn't feel something, right? They are just not good at communicating with each other. Too much negative history." He smiles widely at his sweet Pysche.  
  
"So, what will you do?"  
  
"Do? Nothing, I think. I'm resolved to let this run its course a bit longer. The last lust arrow should still be in effect, if a bit weaker now. Maybe it will help melt them. Bring them back together? Crying! Oh, these humans...and vampires are fascinating." His eyes glint in excitement as he takes Psyche by the hand and leads her away from the images flickering below.  
****************  
Author's Note: Gotta have some yummy angst in every fic, right? Well, I think so. Again, as always, I would love to hear reviews on this fic. Thanks. -Tiana 


	16. Chapter 16: Distraction

*****  
Chapter 16: Distraction  
*****  
Spike grabs the nearest object and throws it with as much force as he can at the crypt wall. The sound of glass shattering fills the empty crypt. He kicks a small table over and then kicks it again into a sarcophagus.   
  
"Wanker. If I ever get my hands on this bleedin' Cupid, I'll rip his little wings off and stuff them down his throat." Spike throws himself into his armchair, breathing hard, fists clenched. Every step to the crypt was filled with a vision of her. Even now, he can taste her skin on his tongue, can feel her taut muscles under his hands, can see her deep hazel eyes looking into his.   
  
"Arrrgghh!" He stands up suddenly, running his hands through his hair. He decides he either has to get blinding drunk or kill some demons to distract himself. Maybe both. Spike storms out of his crypt, slamming the door behind him.   
  
*****  
  
Later that evening...  
  
Buffy turns the nightstand upright, replaces the clock and lamp that were knocked off it. She looks around and sighs. "Man, did we ever tear this place up. Thank God Mom's not back from her trip for a few more days. She would have split a gasket if she saw the house like this." Finishing up in her bedroom, Buffy flops down on the bed with a sigh. The busy task of cleaning up has kept her distracted from the aching in her heart and the still pulsing need for him. Every room in the house where she and Spike ran wild has now been restored to order and her thoughts threaten to invade again. She looks down at herself, at her now sweaty running pants and tank top. Going to her dresser, she pulls out some extra clothes she left there and heads for the bathroom. Opening the door brings a rush of memories back. Him helping her into the shower, gently washing her body... Cursing the emotional roller coaster she is on, Buffy yanks the curtain back and turns on the water. "I'll just make it quick and get the hell out of here."   
  
The hot water pounds into her tender skin, awakening every nerve ending. She grabs the washcloth, soaps it and starts to wash herself off. She flinches as she rubs a bit too hard on her sensitive skin. Her entire body is sore from the strenuous activity of the last twenty four hours. Lightening her touch, she works the cloth up to her chest, up her neck. She grazes the still fresh bite mark there and instantly freezes. The look in his eyes when she offered her blood. The feeling that drove her to do it. The incredible sensation of pain/pleasure as he clung to her, as she felt herself filling him with life and warmth. Hot tears sting her eyes as they well up and fall. Buffy backs up until she reaches the cool tile. Sliding down the surface, she ends up sitting on the shower floor. Water pours over her as she puts her head down on her knees and pours out her disappointment in quiet sobs.   
  
*****  
  
Even later that evening...  
  
"Another."   
  
"'ey, don't you think you've had enough, buddy?"   
  
Spike launches himself half over the bar, grabbing the bartender by the shirt. "I. Said. Another." A low growl begins to emanate from the vampire's chest.   
  
"Uh, yessir. Right away." Spike slumps back onto his bar stool. Filthiest, most disgusting dive in town and they try to cut him off? He turns on the stool and leans against the bar, surveying the crowd. Demons, vamps and the generally undesirable of Sunnydale. As long as the Slayer doesn't feel like picking a huge bar fight, she won't be here tonight. He was sure that would help, but it hasn't gotten her out of his mind. Not her or her golden body or her breathless words in his ear as he... "Dammit!" He slams his hand down on the bar and turns back to face it. The drink has appeared while his back was turned. He sips it at first, letting the amber liquid burn his throat on the way down. Spike is finding it difficult to get drunk enough to forget. If anything, the alcohol is making him more and more depressed. He slams the remaining contents of the glass. Spike mutters to himself, "Damn my vampire constitution. Takes forever to get hammered." He raises his voice to be heard over the clamor in the bar. "'ey! Another." The bartender begins to open his mouth, but Spike holds up a finger, silencing him. He then turns the finger and points at the empty glass, an eyebrow raised. The bartender gulps and snatches away the empty glass. Again murmuring to himself, Spike muses, "Must be new. Won't last in a place like this." Five drinks later, Spike is finally starting to feel it. The bartender is keeping a safe distance from the vampire as he grows more and more surly.  
  
"'Bout bloody time. Been drinkin' for two hours straight." He starts to turn around on the barstool and suddenly finds himself on the floor. A pair of large muscular arms pick him up. "'oy, thanks, mate. Stool musht ha' moved on me. Wha - wha the hell you doin'? 'EY!"   
  
Spike is rather unceremoniously tossed out the door of the bar, landing in a sprawled heap in the dank alley. The door slams behind the two bouncers without a word.   
  
"Was bloody rude, ya ashk me." On his third attempt, Spike manages to stand up. He goes to the alley wall for support and stands very still for a minute. " 'aven't been this sloshed in a bit. Everythin's nice an' blurry..."   
  
Spike laughs to himself, and then squints as he sees two very blurry and large forms approaching him. "Not those bloody bouncers again." He raises his voice, " Shove off, alright? I'm out of the bleedin' bar already!"   
  
"So we noticed, Spike." The deep voice is vaguely familiar.   
  
"Tha's funny, you sound a lot like that Wa'shaar demon I whacked t'other night. Oh wait, that was tonight, actually. See, I've been drinkin - "   
  
"That was one of my brethren, Spike. And we don't find it very funny."   
  
"Oh balls, don't tell me you're here for wha - revenge? Boys, not really the besht night for it. Maybe you could look me up later on?" Spike spreads his arms wide as the two demons get closer...and bigger. "Boysh?"  
  
A sudden punch in the stomach is Spike's answer. He tries to swing back, but his coordination is seriously hampered by his drunken state. The swing goes wild and the other demon slams his fists into Spike's back, dropping him to the ground. Several kicks in the gut and punches to his head later, he hears a scream of pain from one of the demons. Struggling to see what is going on, Spike looks up and notices one of his attackers is now sprawled out on the ground... and maybe without his head. "Wha's goin' on? Who's there?" The other demon turns his attention from kicking Spike to this new attacker. A familiar scent is on the air. Vanilla and jasmine tickles his nose. Spike sees a blur of blond hair and moans, his belief confirmed. He cannot escape her. Even in the filthy underbelly of Sunnydale she shows up. 'Course it is her job... He lets his head drop back to the pavement, praying for unconsciousness. Moments later, the sounds of struggle cease and he feels a hand on his back, resting lightly.  
  
"Spike?" Her voice is gentle, concerned. He imagines he looks pretty wretched after a couple hours of demon fighting, heavy drinking and now a one-sided beating.   
  
He manages to pull one eyelid open and look up at her, despite a throbbing pain in his head. "Shlayer. T'anks." With that last effort, blessed unconsciousness takes him.   
  
Buffy sits back on her heels and sighs. Surveying the scene in the alley, she realizes she better get out of there...and fast. Only a few feet from the door to the roughest demon bar in town and she's killed two of the customers. Plus, there's Spike. Not the most popular vamp in town since he started going after demons. She cocks her head at his prone form. He is a mess. And wow, really drunk. With a grunt of effort, she pulls him off the ground, dragging one arm around her shoulder. He's even more of a mess than she thought. "Good thing for you I couldn't sleep, Spike. Otherwise, they'd be sweeping up your dusty remains in the morning." Despite her light tone, she is worried. He really could have been killed...well, dusted. And despite all her protests to the contrary, it's not what she wants for the blond vampire. "I've done a very good job of avoiding you so far. Been nearly five hours." She sighs as she half-drags him down the alley and around the corner. "Stupid spell."  
  
Buffy struggles up the steps to her house, Spike's limp body a dead weight, his arm around her shoulders. "This just keeps getting better. My house is closer and I can't freakin' carry you any further. You weigh a ton unconscious. And I must be really losing it to keep talking to a knocked-out vamp I'm trapped in a lust spell with. This evening just sucks on all new levels." Kicking the door open, Buffy gets as far as the living room couch before dropping her charge. The momentum pulls her down on top of him. He grunts in his sleep as she lands with an elbow in his gut. She takes a deep breath before pushing herself off him. The rich scent of leather and the lingering smell of smoke. So Spike. It makes her thighs quiver just being this close to him. She backs a few steps away and stares down at him. Peaceful in his drunken stupor. She moves in again to check over his wounds. Split lip, black eye, definitely some bruising on his face. Her fingers run gently over his cheekbones. Her glance drops to his torso. "Should probably check for more serious injuries." Glancing back at his face to make sure he's still out, she slips her warm hands under his shirt, carefully pushing it up. Buffy holds her breath as she reveals his abs, the washboard stomach that was pressed against her mere hours ago. Slowly, she presses up and down his chest, feeling for broken bones or any sign of major damage. "Probably some cracked ribs or at least bruised ones. He'll be alright." Her voice is low and she speaks just to keep herself from shaking. With her hands on him, her self-restraint is slipping. Damn lusty feelings. Buffy looks up at his face, battered a bit, but still beautiful. Gently, she pulls the shirt back down, covering him. She stands up quickly, moving away from him before she can make a mistake. "Can't act on the spell. It will go away. It WILL go away." She chants it like a mantra, wondering if that will make it true. Her eyes pop up to the curtains, which are wide open. Moonlight washes over him, but she knows that also means dawn could make Spike extra crispy. Risking another approach, she leans over him and yanks the curtains closed, checking for any stray light. Satisfied he won't end up a pile of dust, she turns away and heads for the stairs, taking them two at a time to escape as fast as she can.   
  
A few moments later, the silence is broken as Spike cracks open his eyes. His hands go to his chest where her warm hands danced up his skin. Never has he employed so much willpower. Ever. Even now, his erection strains his pants as he remembers the haze of her warmth and her delicate scent around him, over him when she closed the curtains. "Soddin' magic. Always consequences. Always..." With that, he drops back off to sleep, hoping his dreams will provide escape.   
***************  
Author's Note: Well, I'm still stuck at home due to the huge snowstorm so the chapters are coming along fast and furious! Enjoy and as always, reviews are very welcome. -Tiana 


	17. Chapter 17: Impulse Control

*****  
Chapter 17: Impulse Control  
*****  
Buffy turns over for the hundredth time, desperately trying to get comfortable in her tangled sheets. Curled onto her side, she smacks the bed with her hand in frustration.   
  
"So so stupid. Oh Buffy, you can't stop thinking about having sex with a certain bloodsucking vampire, so what do you do? Go out and save his drunk butt and wait, what next? Bring him back to your HOUSE! Good one." She slaps the bed again and turns over, landing on her back. Her aggravation has done nothing to drive out the thoughts of the vampire sleeping one floor beneath her. Thoughts which are giving her warm, wet feelings growing increasingly harder to ignore. His strong hands holding her, running up and down her spine. Goosebumps spring up on her skin just thinking about it.   
  
Almost of their own volition, her own hands begin to roam over her body, seeking out the most sensitive spots. Buffy slips one hand up under her shirt, running her fingers over her nipples, sore and tender. They respond immediately and she feels a stab of sensation below her waist. She pushes her head back into the pillow, surprised by the power of the feeling. One hand pulls roughly on her pajama bottoms and she manages to kick them off. She lets her hand rest gently on top of her panties, feeling the wetness grow there as her mind wanders over his body. His strong shoulders that she clung to as he drove into her. The muscles stretched taut in his arms as he held her hips while she bucked on top of him. She shudders a bit, remembering the rolling, pounding sex on the floor of the kitchen. Her hand slides into her panties, and she begins to rub her swollen clit in circles with her thumb. The hour of tossing and turning with thoughts of Spike have her already incredibly wet and aroused.   
  
As her hand works its magic down below, her mind sends flash after flash of him. Like a series of snapshots, she gets images of Spike. The curve of his full mouth, the surprisingly soft platinum hair, the rippling tightness of his chest, the groove of his spine down his strong back, his words tickling her ear, teeth nipping at her neck... The images come faster and faster as her pace increases. He is there, taking her body, running his hands through her hair, his deep voice moaning her name... 'Buffy...I love you so much...' Remembering his words muttered from a dream sends shockwaves through her system and she moans to a climax, riding the wave of those words. Letting the ripples in her pelvis dissipate, Buffy lies still, staring at the ceiling and panting. All those images of his body, his face and what makes her come? His words...his profession of love. She scolds herself. In a dream, Buffy. Doesn't mean a thing and why would I want it to? Thankfully, the efforts of her orgasm are stealing over her, and her eyelids grow heavy as her body lapses into a relaxed state. Her thoughts are stored away for another few hours as sleep takes her.   
  
*****  
  
Meanwhile, Spike stares daggers into the ceiling. The alcohol wore off...way too fast...and his natural wakefulness at night took over. He wakes to a very faint sound, a very faint scent. Both unmistakably Buffy and both unmistakably aroused Buffy. He strains to listen to her, simultaneously thanking and cursing his vampiric hearing for this little show. Her telltale moans make Spike's jaw twitch. "Least the bloody spell is still workin' on her...too." His body responds to her even at this distance. He feels his jeans get tighter as his cock springs to life. Spike growls deep in his throat in frustration. He can see her, cheeks pink, moist lips open as she moans, hands running down her body, lower and lower. Listening very hard, he confirms his suspicions and his hand drops to his zipper. Won't be walking in on him while she's in the middle of that. Quickly, Spike undoes his jeans, releasing his erection. His hand immediately goes to it, rubbing in time with her sounds, letting his imagination roam, seeing her in his mind's eye. He grips harder as he remembers her throwing him down on this very couch, standing over him, eyes glinting, stripping down to reveal her flushed body before straddling him. Spike closes his eyes as he continues to stroke himself. His pace increases as he remembers her body stretching above him, her breasts begging to be touched, her neck bared. And then, later, that look in her eyes. The one that nearly burned him from the inside out. A passion, some undefined emotion when she looked at him. He hears a whimper from the room upstairs and it is too much for him. Spike finally comes with a low deep groan, straining to be quiet. He lies still for a few minutes, stilling his strangely accelerated breathing. Buffy does a number on him, even in his memories, his visions of her.   
  
Finally, he struggles to his feet, swaying a bit from the aftereffects of his drinking binge. His hands go to his head. "Sod it, 'm going to feel this tomorrow..." Moaning slightly, he stumbles to the bathroom to clean himself up. On the way back, he stops at the foot of the stairs. Grasping the banister on one side and placing his hand on the opposite wall, he stares into the dark at the top of the stairs. She is sleeping now, taken to that state by her own hand. He can see her, skin still very warm, heart rate slowly returning to normal. Spike's grip tightens on the banister. He doesn't even want to have her body right now, he just wants to let her curl into him, hold her while she sleeps, share that intoxicating warmth.   
  
He jumps back from the steps as if he was burned, shaking his head. "Spell must be getting to me. Just a sex thing, nothin' more..." With one last glance up the stairs, he wobbles to the door and out into the night, fleeing the confusion in his brain and his still heart.   
  
*****  
  
The next morning...  
Buffy stretches, feeling warm and satisfied. Glancing at the clock tells her she has a little time before she has to head over to campus. Slowly her smile fades as he remembers that she missed all her classes yesterday...and the reason why. The reason is asleep on her couch downstairs. Buffy covers her face with her hands, wondering how she can face him this morning. And these feelings...god, how can it continue like this? She wants him, craves him even now, moments into the new day. And he will know it. The minute he looks into her with those baby blues, he'll know what she wants.   
  
"I can't. I have to go to class. And it's just the spell. How many times do I have to tell myself...ugh!" She cringes at the thought of him saying no to her. How mortifying. "Just have to avoid him, get to class and forget all about his...just forget it. By tonight, back to sane Buffy. Who may stop talking to herself quite this much." Shaking her head, Buffy concentrates her efforts on getting ready and any thoughts not centered on Spike.  
  
An hour later, she can avoid it, avoid him no longer. Tentatively, she starts to head down the stairs, absently straightening her black sweater, touching her hair and then getting mad at herself for primping. For Spike. Taking a deep breath, she enters the first floor, her eyes automatically shooting towards the living room.   
  
And the empty couch.   
  
Her heart drops when she sees he is gone. Despite her dread of facing him, she still wanted to see him. Confirming the craziness of the last two days. She checks into the kitchen. Nothing. Going back to the living room, she flops on the couch, running her hands over the upholstery. Seeing him there, black leather, alabaster skin. Otherworldly he is, makes everyone else look so ordinary, so plain. So human. Buffy sighs in exasperation. Why can't she want the normal things a girl wants? A quiet voice in her head points out that she is hardly 'normal', so why should she seek it?   
  
She pushes off the couch, grabs her bag and heads for campus, hoping to shake these thoughts and just make it to the end of the spell.  
  
*****  
Willow watches her friend, a concerned look creasing her features. "Um, Buffy, forgive me for being Little Miss Repeat Herself, but are you sure you're okay?" Her eyes still on Buffy, she crunches into a potato chip.  
  
Buffy pulls herself out of daydreams, naturally centered around a certain blond vampire and focuses on Willow. "Wha-? I'm sorry, what was that, Willow?"  
  
Willow sighs. "Buffy, something's wrong." She drops her voice. "Is it the lusty spell? You still thinking about Spike?"  
  
Waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, Buffy laughs. "Oh heck no. Not even at all. Nope. Not thinking about Spike..." Her voice trails off, losing conviction with each word.  
  
Barely noticing, Willow continues, "Oh good, 'cause I'll tell you, whew, what a relief when I found the Cupid thing. Otherwise, yikes, right?"  
  
Blinking back an unbidden tear, Buffy smiles a bit too brightly. "Absolutely. Such a major relief, Will. Knew you'd come through for me. I was just, uh, wondering how much I missed yesterday. I've got some catching up to do."  
  
Willow blushes as she remembers, all too vividly, the reasons Buffy missed her classes. Ducking her head, she fumbles for a notebook. "Well, I've got notes from Pysch class and I'm sure you can make up anything else. I'll help you out."   
  
"Yep, you're always there for me, Will. Done?" Buffy nods at Willow's lunch, stealthily dumping her mostly untouched lunch into a bag to throw away. She wonders if Willow had to be quite so there for her on the Spike thing. If they didn't know about the spell, she could be with him right now...  
  
*****  
  
He moans, wondering when his sarcophagus got to be so uncomfortable. "Prob'ly when you got used to the Slayer as your pillow, wanker." Spike squirms a bit, fighting consciousness, willing himself back into the peace offered by sleep. He punches at the pillow he made of his duster, trying to make it more comfortable. Mouth twitching, thoughts of her tripping unbidden into his dreams, he manages to drop back off to a relatively peaceful slumber as the day wears on...  
  
*************************  
Author's Note: This is still pretty darn fast, but the chapters won't be coming daily anymore, as I had to return to work today (despite the snow.) Anyway, thanks for the reviews! They are what really make me write faster! -Tiana 


	18. Chapter 18: Fancy Meeting You Here

*****  
Chapter 18: Fancy Meeting You Here  
*****  
"Aren't you going patrolling?"  
  
"Hunh?" Buffy looks up blankly, relieved that she can stop pretending to read her pysch textbook.   
  
"Buffy, you've been 'reading' that page for about twenty minutes. And it's past when you normally patrol." Willow knits her brow at Buffy, looking up from her desk across the room.  
  
"No, I'm just, studying it. Also, I'm behind. What with the missing class and...well, I can patrol later." Buffy nervously taps her pen against the edge of the book, wishing Willow would go back to her homework.   
  
"It's Spike, right?"  
  
"What's Spike? What do you mean?" Buffy sits up straight suddenly, nearly tipping over her chair.  
  
"The spell? Spike? The uh...sweaty nakedness?" Willow squirms as she lifts her eyebrows.   
  
"Oh, that! Pfffft." Buffy manages to laugh a little at Willow's suggestion, hiding the flush that races up her neck and into her face with her hair. "I'm fine now, Will. Like you said, all gone. Back to the more comfortable hating." Buffy determinedly avoids eye contact with Willow, fearing that her true feelings will be revealed in her eyes. She sighs and stares at her book, her mind heading to a place Willow would not dare follow. The nakedness alone would send her into a blushing fit. Drop it, drop it, drop it, she prays.   
  
Willow stares at Buffy for a few more seconds, "Well, I'm...uh....glad to hear it, then. The whole sitch was giving me a case of the wiggins, to tell you the truth. Of course, yesterday, you did say you were happy..." Struggling with her vision of Spike, Buffy swivels her head to meet Willow's earnest face and questioning green eyes. She resists the urge to dart out the door. The tack of this conversation is way on the uncomfortable side, drawing things to the surface she wants left alone. Specifically, her feelings on the blond vampire.  
  
"It's a spell. Must have been the spell talking then and the post-sex good vibes. All the...um...En-door-pins?"  
  
"Endorphins."  
  
"Right, those. Feel good stuff. But now, now back to healthy hating of Spike."  
  
Willow tilts her head and look at Buffy, wondering who exactly Buffy is trying to convince with her words. She decides to continue talking, see if Buffy is covering something.  
  
"This is some spell, I'll tell ya. Guess the gods don't mess around. Well, actually they do. Since they are, in fact, messing around with you and Sp..." Willow realizes she's said just a shade too much and lets her words fade. Buffy's expression is unreadable. "But you are back to normal now?"  
  
Buffy resists the urge to scoff at being described as normal and decides lying and diversion may be the easiest way out of this conversation. "Oh yes, very. What time is it?"  
  
"Nine thirty."  
  
"Bloody hell." Buffy mutters under her breath, borrowing Spike's words, wondering if this night will ever end so she can escape this spell.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Nothing. Um, I think I will patrol after all." Her smile is small and not remotely convincing, but Willow nods.  
  
"Be careful."   
  
"You know me." Buffy grabs her bag and tucks a stake in her waistband. On the way out the door, she tosses out, "Oh, and Will. I may sweep the cemeteries on the south side tonight, so I'll probably crash at Mom's. See you in History?"  
  
"Patrol. Mom's. History. Got it." Buffy decides squirming with her thoughts of Spike alone instead of in the same room with Willow may be a smart move.   
  
Buffy stomps down the stairs and out of the dorm into the cool night air. Damn Spike. Damn Cupid and damn his pointy arrows. She exhales strongly, willing herself calmer. Buffy managed to hide her alarm from Willow that the lust she feels toward Spike is not dissipating. In fact, the amount of time that has passed since she's seen him is making her skin itch. He is a drug and she is not ready to quit.   
  
*****  
  
Meanwhile...  
  
"This is bloody ridiculous. I can't stay in here forever." Spike paces the crypt in circles, cursing and kicking at random objects. Continuing to move is the only thing that remotely dampens his craving for the Slayer since he woke up at sundown. "Red said the bleedin' spell would be over in a few more hours. Just need to steer clear for a few hours. Not so hard." He paces in tighter and tighter circles, hands clenching into fists. "See what's on the telly..."  
  
Spike drops into his armchair and fiddles with his newly found television. Some creative extension cord work and wiggling of an antenna brings him a slightly fuzzy black and white image. He flips through the few channels he can get until he finds an old horror movie.   
  
"There we go. One of my favorites." Spike tries to lose himself in the movie, chuckling as the creature chases the hapless humans through the woods, but inevitably, his mind wanders. To her. He wonders what she is doing right now. Patrolling? Picturing her in action makes Spike throw his head back on his chair with a groan. Her lethal grace when slaying has always been a turn-on, even before the spell showed up and made it an obsession. Spike's eyes cut between the TV and the door, struggling with the decision. Finally, he realizes that if she comes anywhere near his crypt on patrol, he will almost definitely drag her in here and have his way with her on the nearest sarcophagus. And then, when the spell wears off, she would introduce him to the business end of a stake. Sighing, he decides escape is the best option. He clicks off the TV, leaves the crypt and disappears into the dark of the cemetery with a quiet rush of black leather.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy strolls down Main Street, desperate to avoid patrolling a bit longer. Despite what she said to Willow, she has no intention to head towards a cemetery while she still feels this burning for the blond vampire. Seeing him would undoubtedly undo her completely. And what if the spell has already stopped working on him? The thought makes her heart sink in a most alarming way. It's getting later and just about the only thing still open on Main is the coffee shop. Buffy decides sitting down for a mocha would kill some time. Take in some yummy chocolate-flavored caffeine and then figure her next move.   
  
The night is warm and she settles herself at one of the small tables by the street, cupping the large mug and staring into space. She feels like her life took a sharp left turn two days into Bizzare-O-Land and yet... So reluctant she doesn't even want to admit it to herself, Buffy muses that it wasn't all bad. In fact, bad is not one of the words that springs to mind at all. Closest word she can think of is...naughty. A smile plays with the corners of her mouth as she remembers the taste of chocolate, his ivory skin twitching as her tongue danced across it. She finds herself not hating Cupid quite as much as before. True, toying with her is not to be taken lightly, but it's not like she had never thought about...well, he was damn attractive, no matter how evil and bloodsucking. Shaking her head, she takes a sip from the still warm mocha, letting the smooth liquid slide down her throat slowly. Chocolate again. She laughs again, soft and light, lost in remembering.  
  
"This seat taken?" The deadly deep voice runs straight up her spine as her hands lose their grip. His hand shoots out to catch the cup before it can hit the table. "You should really work on holding on to your drinks, pet." Her eyes, still blank with a cross between shock and the overwhelming need to flee the warmth melting her thighs, finally rise to meet his. The blue is still startling, clear and deep like a mountain lake. There is mirth dancing there as he lightly sets the cup down, withdrawing his hand. His hand waves toward the empty seat and she nods, wordless. Spike drops into the chair, sprawling his legs out under the tiny table.   
  
Moments pass, the only sound Buffy's breathing and what she swears is her audible heartbeat, pounding away. Desperately, she hopes he believes that he startled her, not that she wants to knock the table out of the way and straddle him right here on Main Street. She mentally rolls her eyes for coming up with that vision. Not helping.   
  
She tries for the obvious and kind of snarky. "What are you doing here?"  
  
"Nice to see you too, pet. What's it look like, getting coffee." He waves at the waitress and she acknowledges him with a nod.   
  
"You drink coffee?" Good, small inconsequential talk.  
  
"Just jam-packed full of surprises, aren't I?" He cocks his head at her, studying her very mixed signals. A bit scared, definitely nervous and something else. All the scents on the street, including the strong coffee smell, make it difficult for him to pick up her distinctive Buffy scent. She looks to be trembling a little bit. 'Course he did apparently scare her. She was really lost in her thoughts, even laughing when he spotted her. At first, he thought he could walk by without saying a word. Main Street was the last place he expected to see the Slayer . Otherwise, he would have avoided it. But the second Spike picked up that flash of blonde, he was screwed. No way to walk away. His tongue had darted out and run over his lips in anticipation of being that close to her again. Didn't even take the time to make up an excuse for talking to her before walking up. His mind had not been working all that well lately. And besides, he did drink coffee.   
  
No more words are spoken as Spike's coffee is dropped off by the waitress. He concentrates on the dark liquid for a few seconds before taking a swig. Buffy struggles for something to say that would definitively convince him the spell was no longer working on her. She can't, absolutely cannot let on that she still wants him in the worst way. He seems very nonchalant, as if nothing happened, as if they hadn't been rolling around on the floor together buck naked only yesterday. Damn him. Something that will get him to leave her alone, remove the temptation so she can reluctantly return to sanity. If she could just come up with one of her snappy insults, make him mad. Just as she works on the perfect comment, she feels his leg brush against hers under the table and she starts, nearly overturning the whole thing.   
  
Buffy blurts, "So, wanna go patrolling?" Damn! Where did that come from? Not an insult, obviously not going to make him leave. Stupid hormones hitting the override switch on her mouth.   
  
"Sure. Why not?" He is slightly taken aback, but if she wants to gloss over everything and get back to work, so be it. He starts to get up, leaving some cash on the table. As if he's going to tell her she looks delicious in that halter top. Wild horses couldn't... "Nice top." He clenches his jaw. Quick, quick, change it, fix it. "Going to try the half-dressed approach to slaying tonight, eh? Lure the vamps in and then take 'em down?" Okay, lame but covered. Nearly bloody complimented the chit. This is going to be harder than he thought.   
  
Her laugh was sharp and unexpected. "Maybe." And flirty. "The Slayer must use all her resources." Mentally clutching her head, Buffy turns away from him to hide the flush in her cheeks, feels a light sheen of sweat rise up on her exposed skin. Obviously her brain is no longer in charge of her mouth. Other parts of her body have taken over.  
  
"Let's go." She strides purposefully for the cemetery, not looking back to see if he follows. She hears his footsteps behind her, confirming that he does.   
  
He cocks his head as he walks, enjoying the view of her swaying backside as she moves with confidence down the street. Spike mutters to himself, under his breath, "Going to be a long bleedin' night."  
***********************  
Author's Note: Thanks for all the positive feedback, everyone! Hope you enjoy this new (and slightly longer!) chapter. -Tiana 


	19. Chapter 19: Tonight

*****  
Chapter 19: Tonight  
*****  
Buffy scans back and forth, looking for a vampire, a demon, anything to tackle. Her eyes land on her patrolling companion and she inwardly flinches. Well, except him. Can't tackle him. Absently, her eyes drop down his body, following the sleek lines, imagining what he hides under those clothes, a sight she knows quite well now.   
  
"Buffy."   
  
"Wha-?" Buffy snaps her eyes up, which happened to be lingering on his backside and realizes Spike has turned to look at her. The crimson flush races up her cheeks before she can stop it. She looks away sharply, but he had to notice. He must have seen her checking him out.  
  
"A bit quiet in this one, want to head down to RestView?"   
  
Buffy is quietly stunned. He didn't notice? Or if he did, he is not going to comment? Weird. "Um, sure. Sounds like a plan."  
  
The blond duo turn and head in the direction of the exit nearest them, but both stop suddenly, heads whipping in the same direction.  
  
"Not so quiet after all, luv. Shall we?" His eyes twinkle, anticipation of a good fight lighting them up. Buffy realizes her heart rate just picked up and can't decide if it's him or the potential slayage. Either way, they had company and it was moving this way.  
  
"Yep. What do you think? Take it to them or let them think they are sneaking up?"   
  
Spike smiles down at this little bundle of deadly energy. The one that was just giving him the once-over. He wonders if she knows that her whole body reacts when a fight approaches. Her heart rate increases, blood rushes to the surface of her skin, her eyes glow in anticipation. It makes him want to drag her behind that tree over there and... but first, answer her question. "Rather like the sneaking up plan, pet."   
  
He nods the direction they were heading, no need to clarify the plan. They know what to do. Buffy continues in a normal speaking voice. "Yeah, pretty quiet. Let's head out." She winks at him and they continue walking. Spike is nearly derailed completely from the plan by her playfulness, but remembers to focus. Listening to the nearly silent footsteps and picking up the scent on the air, he can tell there are two, no, three vamps approaching. From the west, behind them. He cuts his eyes to Buffy and she mouths "Three?" He nods slightly. With a practiced ease, Buffy shifts her bag slightly off her shoulder, acting as if she is looking for something. They are getting closer. She and Spike continue to move in stride, seemingly casual, but both are coiled, muscles tensed and ready.   
  
When both can sense their attackers are within a few feet, they glance briefly at each other and then spin simultaneously. Spike, duster flying behind him, swings and punches the vamp nearest. Buffy swings her bag and clocks the second vamp in the head, smoothly flowing to kick the last one. All three vampires go sprawling, and are given no chance to recover. Dropping the bag, Buffy punches and kicks the first vamp to his feet, backing him step by step into a nearby crypt. When his back hits the stone, she whips the stake from the back of her waistband, staking him in one motion. As soon as he turns to dust, she spins with her back to the crypt, allowing the vamp attempting to jump her from behind to dust himself on her outstretched stake. Waving the cloud of dust out of her eyes, she sees Spike battling the final vampire. She starts to push away from the crypt to help, but stops herself. Spike moves like a deadly predator, movements smooth, fast and lethal. He is hypnotic to watch. Plus, he clearly has the situation in hand. Looks like he's just having a good time before the inevitable staking.   
  
"Trying to sneak up, eh, mate? Bloody stupid if you ask me." He kicks once to the head, followed by punches, first left then right, sending the vamp stumbling backwards, tripping over a tombstone. The vampire tries to break away, to flee, but Spike grabs his shoulder, spinning him around. "Oh, and now you want to run? Make up your mind." Buffy smiles. He loves to talk to his opponents almost as much as she does. So distracted by his presence, she couldn't even muster up a good pun in her fight. Her eyes focus on the leather stretching across his back, remembering the way it felt, the tight skin smooth under her fingers. Her part of the fight is over, but her breathing is only accelerating, her heart beating hard in her chest. Finally, with one sweeping kick, leather flying, Spike knocks the vamp down to the ground. With one violent thrust, he stakes the vamp and ends up kneeling on one knee above a pile of dust.   
  
He feels her eyes on him, burning into his skin. Slowly, he lifts his eyes, looking up at her under his brow. Her breath catches in her throat at the look in his eyes. Deadly, intense. He focuses on her like a predator finding his next kill, only it is not killing he wants to do. He knows it, she knows it.   
  
Her face is flushed with that familiar pink glow as she stares back at him. He sees that she has disposed of the other two vamps and they are alone again in the cemetery. Fighting alongside her is an aphrodisiac of the highest level and he feels his skin vibrate in desire, his need to touch her raging inside. He knows she was watching him fight, knows she is breathing hard, heart racing as the wind brings the sweet scent of her arousal to him. Ever so slowly, Spike stands up and faces her. They are separated by about ten feet of air thick with sexual tension. His eyes rake down her body, heedless of his internal alarm warning him that he is revealing his desire for her. He can almost taste her hot and sweet in his mouth and he knows she wants him just as much.   
  
Still clutching her stake tightly, Buffy can't look away. She feels his eyes run down her body, tracing each curve, singeing her edges. Her feeble protests, denying her attraction, die in her mouth before she can form them into words. But her mind screams, this is wrong. It's just as wrong as it was before, spell or no spell. Buffy tells her mind to shut up for a few minutes.  
  
Much as they did before the fight began, she and Spike communicate with their eyes. In the same breath, she drops the stake and he lunges toward her, pinning her tiny body against the cold stone with his own. His hands flatten against the crypt on either side of her head, his face mere inches from hers. Her eyes slip closed, absorbing the sensation of every inch of his hard body pressed into her. Swallowing, she opens her eyes again to meet his, a deep and stormy blue. Her mouth opens to try and give voice to her protest and he is on her in a flash, his lips attacking hers with a vengeance.   
  
The burning in her body grows and spreads, radiating from her navel in every direction, lighting every nerve with a new fire. He can't believe how hot she feels, his own personal inferno. Their kiss deepens, tongues diving into each other, and her hands run under his duster and around his back, clutching the fabric in her hands.   
  
They break apart with a gasp and stare at each other. Every inch of her fights it, but she breathes out, "This is wrong, Spike." The complete lack of conviction in her words makes him smile at her in a most sinister fashion.   
  
"Too true, luv. Very, very wrong." He takes one finger and runs it up her arm, starting at her wrist, grazing her breast with his hand as he slips up and over her shoulder, up her neck, to her cheek. She realizes she is holding her breath as his thumb grazes her bottom lip, pulling her mouth open. "Don't really care about what's wrong, though." A smile dances across his mouth before he leans closer again.  
  
"The spell." She blurts it out, her last possible defense against his considerable charms.  
  
"What of it?" He hesitates, wets his own lips as he waits for her response.  
  
"We're only doing this because of the spell." Her eyes dart back and forth across his face.   
  
"Sounds like a bloody good excuse to me, luv. What say we go with it?" His logic in the face of unbridled lust is fairly convincing. "Tomorrow, this will be over between us. But tonight..." He leaves the sentence unfinished, his meaning clear. Live in the moment. Something he excels at, something she is scared to do. Knowing she wants him just as much, he sees no need to hide his burning for her. She is just not ready to let her body and the spell take over. Her eyes smolder on his. Or is she?  
  
She cocks her head at him, her voice clear and unquestioning. "You've got a good point there. Tonight, then."   
  
Startled by her agreement, Spike remains still for another moment. Buffy leans forward, planting a kiss at the base of his neck, waking him quite suddenly from his shock. She pulls back, meeting his gaze again before moving back in, her lips moist and warm against his neck. The trail of warmth moves up again, tickling his ear. He moans quietly, grasping her upper arms with his hands, freezing her.   
  
"My crypt? It's close."   
  
Glazed over from desire, she takes a few beats to process his words. Looking around briefly, she does realize that out in the middle of the cemetery may not be the wisest location. Catching his eyes again, she nods. His hands drop and one reaches for hers. She twines her fingers in his tightly, allowing herself to be led across the damp grass toward his home.   
  
Her tiny fingers wrapped in his send shockwaves up his arm. Spike had reached for her without thinking and she had taken a hold of him tightly, surprising him. Mentally, he is grateful for the small side trip he made earlier tonight, 'borrowing' a sleeping bag and some blankets from a camping store downtown. Got spoiled sleeping at the Slayer's house and wanted something softer. Despite the glorious vision of taking her on the sarcophagus, he knows she will appreciate the comfort. Shaking his head, he wonders when he began to worry about the Slayer's comfort. Glancing back at her, he softens his eyes. She is looking up at him as they move rapidly through the cemetery, deftly sidestepping tombstones. Her green eyes are nearly black in the moonlight, but he doesn't need much light to see it. To see something profound in their depths. Passion...and maybe more. He turns away, afraid his eyes are showing something equally unsettling. His entire body is alive from her touch, reaching into a place inside him he thought safely locked away.   
  
It's just tonight, though. To satisfy this blinding lust. If he wanted to pretend it was more, she couldn't stop him.   
  
Buffy felt weak in her knees even as she kept up with his breakneck pace. His look had been penetrating and it shot through her, making her muscles turn to jelly. His cool hand was clutching hers tightly, as if he would never let go. She hoped this spell ended soon and she hoped it would never end. The longer it lasted, the more she felt there was more to it than lust and the thought sent her reeling.   
  
Lost in their thoughts, they found themselves at the door to Spike's crypt. Flinging the door open, Spike turns to her, relieved to see that she didn't appear to be changing her mind.   
  
"Ladies first..." Without releasing her hand, he gestures into the dark space with his other. She steps in and then suddenly, yanks him in after with their clasped hands. The door slams behind the blond vampire and quiet settles on the dark cemetery once again.   
  
*********************  
Author's Note: Thanks again for the reviews - time to turn the heat back up, as you can see! ;) Have fun and let me know what you think! -Tiana 


	20. Chapter 20: In The Dark

*****  
Chapter 20: In The Dark  
*****  
  
It's dark. Very dark. Buffy has time for this thought as the door to the crypt clangs shut. The inky blackness is nearly total, just a few small pools of moonlight through high windows. Quickly, the darkness is not a concern as she feels Spike against her. She caught him off-guard when she pulled him into the crypt, but he has recovered. His hands slide up her sides, making a tremor run straight through her. The darkness swallows Buffy whole and she welcomes it.  
  
"Can you see, luv?" His voice, deep and resonant, washes over her in the darkness. Her hands run up his chest, feeling the leather of the duster under her fingers, cool and roughened from years of wear. Buffy spreads it wider, seeking his skin. She slides the duster down his arms, letting her warm, grasping hands finally find his bare skin. One last push and she hears the solid thump as the leather hits the floor.  
  
"Don't need to." Her reply comes soft and urgent. "Want to feel my way." With a start and a gasp, Spike realizes she is not kidding, as one of her roaming hands finds the hardness pressing against his jeans. He can almost hear her smile.  
  
"Spike." The word is a cross between a sigh and a plea as she breathes it out. She still can't see him, but she can feel him. Buffy can map him with her eyes closed, so the darkness is little obstacle. In fact, it makes her brazen, unafraid, able to forget the outside world. It is only Spike and Buffy, alone in this black cocoon. And the evidence of him wanting her is hard and warm under her hand.   
  
The craving for each other, momentarily derailed by the sudden darkness, builds toward a fever pitch once again. Her hands move faster, harder, leaving the front of his jeans to push against his chest. She finds his lips with her own as he steps backwards until his back hits the edge of a sarcophagus. Buffy throws her body against him, clutching at his shirt with her hands. A ripping sound fills the crypt, freezing them both.  
  
"Sorry." She doesn't really sound that sorry, Spike decides.  
  
"S'okay, luv. I've got more."  
  
"Good." The ripping continues as she figures it is now the easiest way to get through the t-shirt and to his skin. More skin. The skin she needs to feel under her hands. Their hands fight each other as they struggle to get the other's clothes off and quickly. "Only, don't rip my shirt, okay? It's new." He chuckles.   
  
"Won't need to, pet. Thing's only held on by gravity, I think."   
  
"Is not!" She pauses in her unbuttoning of his pants to protest indignantly. "I thought you liked this top?"   
  
"Like it, true. Like what's underneath a sight better, Buffy." His words tickle her ear as he leans in to release the scrap of fabric from around her back and neck.   
  
"Oh." The blush is perfectly visible in his mind's eye. He hears her heart rate begin to pick up again as his hands pull the top off her in one smooth motion. Immediately finding her heated flesh, he feels her nipples go hard in the cool night air as his thumbs graze them. She flinches, pressing closer to him, pinning him between her bare skin and the cold stone of the sarcophagus. Buffy traces his carved abdominal muscles with her fingertips as her hungry mouth grabs his, biting his bottom lip. She slowly pulls back, letting his lip go, a sound close to a growl emanating from her. It is too much for Spike. Grabbing her around the waist with one arm, he picks her off the ground, swinging around to deposit her on the edge of the tomb before she can react. The feel of his taut arm around her is incredible, sending her pulse racing even more. He has her mouth before she can catch a breath, devouring her, his tongue diving into her with fierce abandon. Spike pulls back sharply, leaving her gasping for air, the sound echoing in the chamber.   
  
"Christ, Buffy, I want you." His voice is ragged, choked with desire, his hands resting on her bare shoulders as he tries to look into her face. It is dim, but he is adjusting, so he can just see her eyes, black and fathomless, but definitely staring at him.   
  
"I know. Hurry." Breaking eye contact, Buffy's hands go straight to his jeans, ripping the fly down to finish her work from earlier. "Off, off. OFF!" He smiles slowly at her demanding voice, fighting his own craving for a few seconds just to hear that note in her voice. He works the jeans off a bit slower than necessary. "Spike, I swear, I will stake you right this second if you don't get back up here now." Still unable to see well in the dark crypt, Buffy is startled to feel his next words on her face.   
  
"Right here, luv." As he talks, his hands have dropped to her pants, gentle and agile, undoing them quickly. She leans back on her elbows, allowing him to undress her fully. The fabric slides down her legs quickly and is quickly replaced by his cool hands at her ankles. In a flash, his hands fly up her legs, grasping her hips and yanking her to him. Losing her balance, she gasps, throwing her hands out to hold onto his arms. The muscles are silken under her hands, rigid and tight as he clutches her low on her hips, fingers pressing into the warm flesh.   
  
His mouth is on her neck, blunt teeth nipping at her soft skin, tender and then harder. In the dark, she can't be sure, but she swears she feels the ridges of his game face against her neck at least once. She moans, feeling her own self-control slipping in time with his. Spike brushes her hair back, kissing and biting across her shoulder as one hand works across her thigh, gently brushing the sensitive skin on the inside. She spreads her legs further apart, lifting and draping them loosely around his waist as he slips an arm under her back to support her. As Spike rips the lacy fabric of her panties away and lets his hand slide between her legs, Buffy clutches her legs tighter, closing the small space between them suddenly. She melts in his arms like warm clay, pliable from kneading.   
  
Spike smiles as the silver moonlight catches her body, splayed out in front of him. Neck and chest thrust up as her head lolls back, hair grazing the stone below her. Buffy pants, words floating to him, swallowed in half moans and sighs. Tightening his grip around her back, he leans down, kissing her navel and the delicate skin of her lower belly. Peeking up, he sees that she is still gazing to the heavens, drowning in the sensations cascading through her. He can hear the word, "More..." drop from her lips. The smile on his face turns into a devilishly naughty smirk, edges curling up. Her wish is his command. He returns to her skin, kissing gently, withdrawing his hand. He guides himself to her entrance before she can miss the presence of his hand. With one quick thrust, he fills her, stretching her as he drives all the way to the hilt. Her half-gasp, half-scream pierces the darkness as her body convulses, arms flailing to grasp anything, finally finding herself sitting up again, hands on his shoulders. After the one thrust, Spike remains still, waiting for her response, though it is killing him. He feels her breasts against his chest, slick with sweat as she presses into him. Buffy's eyes, dark and deep, search his, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her kiss is hard and rough, bruising his lips. If he could be out of breath, he would be when she pulls back.  
  
"Don't stop now." He has never heard a tone of such delicious darkness from his Slayer. Her movements languid in the moonlight, she lets him go, melting back onto the sarcophagus. Her arms fall above her head and he can see the muscles tightening as she takes a grip on the far edge. She wants it. Just like this. Hard and furious. The time apart since last night has driven them past simple wanting to desperate need.  
  
"Don't think I could, pet." Hands grasping her waist, Spike slides back out and in again, one rough movement that rattles her bones. He can see the grip tightening as she bites her lip. His self-control just about used up, Spike thrusts, harder and harder, lifting her off the stone surface with each drive.   
  
Buffy feels the cool stone beneath her, scraping her back every time he pounds into her. She can't believe how bad she wants him, how good it feels when he fills her. The sensation starts between her legs and spreads like wildfire through her, dissolving her limbs with its heat. He is moving faster and faster, his strength matching hers, his body unrelenting in its assault. Even in this cool darkness, she can start to make him out. The gentle light from the windows casting shadows on his carved torso, making him seem even more like a marble god than ever. Her mind starts to go in circles as she feels the building inside her, each thrust driving her one step closer . He senses it too and redoubles his efforts. The time for slow and gentle is past. Lifting her eyes to his face from her reclining position, she sees the flicker of his game face, the gold of his eyes catching the light. She smiles at her ability to drive him down that path. Buffy would never admit it out loud, but drawing out his demon like this has made her feel powerful, the mighty Slayer vixen.   
  
Spike feels the bones in his face shifting and starts to panic, afraid Buffy won't like it. As he fights the change back, he catches the small smile on her face and hesitates in mid-thrust.  
  
Buffy notices the change in movement and meets his gaze. Her eyes have adjusted enough to find his eyes with her own. His brows knit together in slight confusion. She squeezes him tight, drawing him in deeper and pulls herself back to a sitting position suddenly.   
  
He growls, low and guttural, as her viselike grip pushes him teetering back to the edge of self-control. The flash of yellow in his eyes does not go unnoticed.  
  
"Don't you dare hold back." She is not asking him, she is telling him. Neither seeking permission nor waiting for it, Buffy grabs his head with both hands and bites his neck with her blunt teeth. A split second after he feels the dull pain of her incisors press against his unbroken flesh, he drives his fangs into her neck without hesitation. She lets go of his neck, her hands going around him, grasping his butt and ripping her nails up his back, drawing blood. He thrusts a few more times, fangs still buried and then, with little warning, they shatter into countless pieces. Buffy claws at him, her body clutching him, drawing out every last drop. Spike pulls away from her neck, hands tangled into her hair, hard, as he pumps deep into her superheated core.   
  
Finally, the shockwaves begin to dissipate and they slowly release their violent grip on each other. Momentarily sated, Buffy falls back onto the sarcophagus, body limp. She feels no pain, though she knows her body will be bruised, her neck sore. All of it seems rather irrelevant. A small shiver runs through her, from the damp cold or something else, she's not sure. It's not the first time her body has reacted to him this way.  
  
Buffy feels the taut arms wrap around her, pulling her up and off the stone. Her body, damp from exertion, meets his skin as he lifts her from the tomb. So gently.   
  
"You're cold. I've got blankets over here...a sleeping bag."   
  
She mumbles her assent to this idea. His gentle concern is disconcerting, his voice subdued, but she is grateful for the soft plush under her as he lays her down. He folds his body to the ground, stretching out with her, their bodies fitting back together like hand and glove. Spike reaches for the blankets, tucking them into the snug cocoon, his arms working their way around her again. The darkness in this part of the crypt is all-encompassing.   
  
In the halfway space between wakefulness and orgasm-induced sleep, Buffy tries to think. Her mental calculations tell her it has been 48 hours since the night they lost control and attacked each other in her house. In that strange second wave of lust. And yet, she still feels that burning deep inside. Could Willow be wrong? About the time limit, about the spell, about...everything? Willow is so rarely wrong. Surely by tomorrow things will be different. Her addled mind wants to enjoy tonight and her body positively demands it. Other parts of her, like her heart, have yet to let their feelings be known. But for now, just a little rest and recovery.  
  
Spike lies very still, waiting for her breathing to even out. It doesn't take long. He feels her body grow relaxed and heavy in his arms. When he is sure she will not know it, he quickly wipes his eyes with the back of one hand. S'posed to be bloody evil, not breaking into tears while shagging the Slayer. But the look she gave him, the accepting of his demon, the intoxicating taste of her blood. It was a bit too much in conjunction with his rampant desire and the pleasure she offered. He smiles. He may be a vampire, but he's never pretended to be unfeeling. He figured the one time she let him bite her in the kitchen was just that, a one time deal. He never thought she would let him...and in the middle of... The smile only broadens. Spike knows this is probably the end of the road. Red says the spell will end tonight and the little Wicca is almost never wrong. But god, what a trip it was...  
  
*****  
  
"Too dark! Honey, I can't see, it's too dark!" Psyche's voice turns into a whine as she pouts prettily at her love. Cupid grins, returning to her side, his eyes dropping to the scene below. He can make out the two blond heads next to each other, their limbs overlapping under the cover of a few blankets.  
  
"Well, darling, it is nighttime." His eyes twinkle, knowing he is teasing her.  
  
She gives him a playful, dark look, but then lights up again. "Sweetie, it's over! The spell of the arrows...BOTH sets of arrows is over. Three days since the first arrow, two days since the second. But look at them!" She gestures emphatically at the knotted tangle of bodies.   
  
"Their powers of denial are formidable, eh?" His grin widens at his mate.   
  
"You're not kidding! I know it's over, you know it's over, the witch knows it's over and even THEY should know it's over, but still..."  
  
He does not reply, his eyes focused on the cozy scene in the crypt. She looks up at him, waiting for a reply.  
  
"What are you going to do? When they wake up, they HAVE to admit it's not the lust anymore...even these two can't hide from the truth forever. Do you think there is any chance it will fade, that they won't want..."  
  
"No." Cupid cuts her off, his voice unwavering. "Darling, I've seen untold thousands of couples in love and caused a great deal of them. This is not going anywhere. And I can take no credit for the emotion present. I was merely the spark that set this fire blazing."  
  
He locks his hands behind his back, his brow knit in consternation. "I've made a decision, my sweet."  
  
Psyche hesitates, glancing from the couple to her lover's chiseled face. "What is it?"  
  
"I will not loose the arrow of love."  
  
"Wh-what? But...that's what you do..." Psyche is confused. She has never known her lover to miss a chance to alter the course of a relationship with his power. It is what he lives for.   
  
"I can't bring myself to it. I want to see it develop on its own. See if the world can still produce a true love without my help. My dear, I am the world's strongest believer in love. I don't always have to cause it to enjoy it. Let us watch some more. Perhaps I can be of help in some other way. But no, the arrow of love will stay in its quiver."  
  
Her look of confusion softens into tenderness. She remembers why she fell in love with this god. Why she chose him above all mortal men. He often wields his great power with impunity, but it is in moments like these that she sees his true strength. He is, after all, the god of love.   
  
************************  
  
Author's Note: Whew, this chapter is long ! Hope it was worth the wait! There is an NC-17 version of this chapter with some minor differences on my website. See Chapter 6 for the address as it looks like ff.net won't let me post the URL anymore. Any problems, email me at tianabelle@hotmail.com and I'll provide the address. That being said, I hope I've edited this chapter enough for this site. It's always hard for me to tell! Enjoy! :) -Tiana 


	21. Chapter 21: Waking

*****  
Chapter 21: Waking  
*****  
  
Buffy wakes in the pitch black crypt. A glance towards the windows at the far end of the crypt tells her it is the early hours of the morning, maybe 3 or 4. She feels Spike's arms, still firm but not tight around her, as he is slack with sleep. She knows she can wake him with the slightest movement if she's not careful. Buffy lies still, letting her mind wander down her body. And his. Her legs are tangled with his, loosely. She is sore below the waist from the force of their encounter, but it's a solid ache, comforting in a way. Much like when she's had a good night of slaying and her body tells her it has been working, that it is alive. The weight on her waist is one of his hands, lightly curled around her there. Their skin is in constant contact from waist up. Buffy feels the hard lines of his muscular chest under her cheek, lets her mind wander down her arm to the hand that rests just above his unbeating heart. She is lying halfway on him, his other arm under and around her, resting on her back. Buffy is cocooned in his arms and she has not felt this safe in years. She barely feels the small burning ache from the bite mark on her neck. A pocket of warmth in her belly spreads to suffuse every limb in a combination of contentment...and...desire? Her eyes widen a bit as she feels her body temperature rise. Buffy wants him again. Feeling the graceful lines of his body pressed against her, countering her curves, containing her tiny form, is wakening her. He has taken on her warmth in this snug bed of theirs under several soft blankets. The outside world is muffled and unimportant.   
  
Buffy's mind races in time with her pulse. She imagines waking him, feeling his hands move on her again and has to bite back a groan. This is not the spell. The stupid thing is over and she feels no different. The possible explanation for her craving makes her heart flutter, her breath catch in her throat.   
  
Love. No, no. Lust. It's lust. I mean, she can't help how hot he is... Buffy's parade of denial is stopped suddenly by her memory of last night. She did not have to let him bite her. Not last night, not that time in the kitchen. If it was just sex, why would she offer him something so significant, so meaningful? It would seem that her willingness and her feeling no real pain allowed him to bite her, even with the chip. So, couldn't he have killed her? She grows cold at the notion. He wouldn't. She knows it as surely as she knows the sun will rise in a few hours. When did she begin to get so secure in what Spike would do? The tiny voice in the back of her head whispers, 'Since you started falling for him.'  
  
Her mouth goes dry. Another vampire? Falling for another vampire was really not at the top of her To Do list. But here she was, curled up in his arms and wishing she could stay this way.   
  
Buffy feels the panic rising in her throat, wondering what to do with this feeling in her gut. Again, the tiny voice, growing louder and more insistent, has a suggestion. Her body betrays her racing thoughts and thinks it is a great idea. Shifting as if in her sleep, Buffy slides slightly down his body, slipping lower. As she predicted, he adjusts to her new position in his sleep, pulling her against him again. Her small hand moves in slow motion down his chest, desperate not to wake him. The smirk tugs at her mouth. Not yet, at least. All thoughts of self-control or worry have flown out of her head. Presented with his body, she can't deal with consequences, she can just deal with him. Finding her target, she begins to rub lightly. It is warm in her hand, protected from the cool night air by the blankets. His body twitches at her touch and she freezes for a second. A low moan comes from him, but he does not wake. As she begins to stroke him slightly more quickly, he begins to harden. His hands flex convulsively around her. She hopes she is not making a big mistake. If he doesn't want her anymore, this could get unpleasant in a hurry.   
  
Spike tosses in his mind, pulled from dreams to an unnervingly real sensation coursing through his body. In his dream, he had the Slayer in his arms, warm and willing. His own little heat source, gazing at him with those gentle green eyes. Flashes of the night before fill his brain and he has to work to identify them as reality instead of fantasy. He wonders why he spent so much time trying to kill her when this is so much better. His undead heart aches at the vision of her gazing into his eyes. He desperately wants to hold her, to have her let him hold her. He can barely muster up an argument against it. Sod the bloody spell. Sod the whole bloody world. This is real. And he is holding her. Spell's over and he still wants her. Wants her to let him be hers, and for her to be his. He tightens his grip around her warm body, wishing fervently to whoever listens to vampires that she feels the same. Swimming slowly towards consciousness, sluggish from the recent exertion, Spike identifies the sensation he felt earlier. She is...she can't be. But she is. He doesn't react outwardly, but waits to see what will happen next. She begins to slide further out of his grasp and he resists the urge to clutch her back to him. The notion of not reacting is quickly thrown out of the window as her hand is replaced by her wet, warm mouth, encircling him suddenly. His entire body stiffens, he gasps and digs his hands into the blankets. Once again, he swears he can hear her smile.   
  
Nice plan, Buffy thinks, reminding herself to listen to the little voice more often. He is slick and silken in her mouth, hardening further as she feels him flail above her. A smile touches her mouth as she slides down his erection, letting her tongue dance around and up again. He's definitely awake now. After a few more strokes, she feels two very strong hands on her shoulders, digging in. In the next second, she is forcibly yanked up his firm chest. Unerring in the dark, Spike takes her lips with his, his mouth attacking hers with newly wakened ferocity, his tongue exploring her mouth thoroughly before letting her go. Gasping, she lies on top of him, hands on his chest, struggling for balance, the evidence of his arousal and her handiwork pressing into her belly.  
  
Still short of breath, she whispers onto his face. "Did I wake you?" He can just see her widen her eyes, feigning innocence.   
  
"Surely bloody did." He chuckles, low and sensuous. The sound always sets off a strange chain reaction in Buffy. A sudden flush of warmth over her skin, a pulse of arousal between her legs.   
  
"Very sorry, Spike. My bad."  
  
"Oh, I'll show you bad." His voice drops, his menace as real as her innocence from moments before. Their playing hides a bit of their emotion, but both know the significance of this encounter. Buried beneath their teasing words is an undercurrent of electricity. Both know the effects of the spell are gone. That having these desires now proves something else. That acting on these desires now proves even more...  
  
He runs his hands down her body, drawing out the moment. Despite the misgivings that should be screaming through his mind, he does not waver. The world has shifted into a place of clarity and she is clearly in that world with him.   
  
Buffy looks down at him, wishing she could see his eyes. "Spike?"  
  
"Yes, luv?" His voice shakes, surprising him. The emotions held in check are bucking for their freedom.   
  
"I want to see you."  
  
"Thought you didn't need to, pet?" He smiles, remembering her comments of a few hours ago.  
  
"I don't. I said I want to." Her voice is calm, serene. He swallows, all of a sudden wanting to see her , too.   
  
"Alright, luv. Got some candles right here somewhere." Buffy shifts off him and listens to his movements as he rolls over on his stomach and reaches into the darkness by their makeshift bed. Buffy hears the familiar clink of his lighter opening. The tiny flame dances, casting light up onto his face. He moves the candle on the floor a bit closer. Once the wick catches, he starts to move the lighter towards another candle. She moves behind him silently, her tiny hands sliding up his back. The warmth, the sensation of her delicate fingers nearly makes him drop the lighter. Hand shaking just a bit, Spike fumbles for the lighter again, swallowing hard. After two attempts he gets it to work, only to feel something altogether disconcerting. Buffy's mouth. On his back. Wet, hot little kisses dancing up his spine. A sudden clank and total darkness returns.   
  
The weak flame from the first candle casts little light, but does create a pocket of orange glow, softening the darkness. He drops the lighter again as she bares her teeth, nipping the skin of his back. One candle will have to be enough.  
  
"Oh God, Buffy..." Her mouth continues to move up, tracing the strong columns of his back, hands racing over the skin, re-learning it with her fingertips. He wonders if she truly knows how incredible she is. How wildly she affects him. He didn't know she had this side, so sensual, gentle, rough and intense. The need to see her is too intense for him. He quickly flips over, facing her. Buffy gasps at his sudden movement, but is quickly quiet again, looking up his chest until she finds his face in the dimness. His eyes are black in this light, but they still dive into her, fathomless and intense. She lets her hands find their path up his chest, then slowly drags them back down, letting the fingernails graze him, catching his nipples on her return. The candlelight flickers next to them.   
  
Before he can go any further, Spike has to know. "Buffy. Wait."  
  
"Don't wanna." Her voice takes on a pouting quality immediately as her hands work their way down and down again...  
  
He uses his every bit of willpower, plus some he didn't know he had to stop her hands. Why does he care why she is doing this? He kicks himself for possibly screwing up a great thing.  
  
"Spell's over, luv."  
  
She is quiet and he wonders if he could be this wrong.   
  
Buffy realizes that it is time to be honest. Here in the dark, one flame dancing across her naked body, she is strong and facing it.   
  
"I know." Her response is so quiet, he wants to ask her to repeat herself.   
  
"You know?"  
  
"I do." He hears her hesitate, clearly struggling with her next words, making little noises. "But I...don't care."  
  
"You don't care?"  
  
"Yes, I mean, no. I do."  
  
"You do care?" Spike is getting more confused. "Buffy, luv. I'm lost. What do you care about?"  
  
A few beats of silence. He can hear her take a deep breath before meeting his eyes again in the dancing light. In slow motion, she leans closer, eyes darting between his eyes and his mouth. He feels her skin trembling under his hands. Finally closing her eyes briefly, she touches her lips to his, pressing lightly just for a moment. She meets his eyes again before speaking.  
  
"You."  
*****************  
Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I really look forward to your reactions! Enjoy! (Oh, and there's an NC-17 version of this chapter at my site - with very minor changes. ) Addy: www.angelfire.com/va3/tiana (ff.net seems to let web addresses post only if you leave off the http bit.) 


	22. Chapter 22: Beginnings

*****  
Chapter 22: Beginnings  
*****  
Spike fights his urge to ask Buffy to repeat herself. Struck speechless, he tilts his head slightly and looks up at her, his eyes gone soft and tender in the candlelight.  
  
A small smile plays on Buffy's lips. She is enjoying his reaction thoroughly. "Did you hear me, Spike?"  
  
Finally finding his voice, Spike manages, "Let's pretend I didn't..." Seeing her face cloud over, Spike quickly amends his statement. "No, luv, not like that." He reaches up, grazing her cheek with the back of his hand. "I meant, I would like to...love to hear it again."  
  
Buffy's smile stretches wider as she shakes her head. "Your turn."  
  
"My turn for what...this?" His hand slides suddenly between her legs, causing Buffy to jump. Slapping at his arm, she laughs.  
  
"No, not yet, Spike. I need to know how you...what you..." Her words trail off, the smile fading as worry sets in. She knows her decision to tell him may have been rash. Maybe he only wants to play? The look on his face settles the butterflies momentarily before sparking a whole new tingle. His expression is so serious, she strives to match it.   
  
"Slayer...Buffy. I don't bloody care 'bout the spell. It's over and I still can't get enough of you. I'm thinking there's a reason for that which was nothing to do with magic." His hand moves up to brush her hair out of her face, tucking it behind an ear. "I feel what you do, luv."   
  
Both dipping their toes carefully into this new emotion, they are tentative, adjusting to it slowly. Buffy studies him quizzically, "Good. Now if I can just figure out exactly what I feel, we'll be in business."   
  
Spike can't help but laugh at her facial expression. "Well, no one ever said this kind of thing was easy."  
  
"Right." Suddenly, it was starting to feel a bit too hot in the room. Buffy knew the heat was internal because the pre-dawn air was chill on her exposed skin. His gaze was warm over her face, skimming down her body briefly before coming back to her eyes. Her voice felt strangely too thick for her throat. She tried to swallow first before managing to say, "We should just take this slow..."   
  
Again, Spike's low laugh shakes her body with its vibrations. "Slow, pet? Is that what we've been doing the last couple days?" His eyebrows threaten to disappear into his hairline.   
  
Buffy grins at him, realizing how ludicrous her statement sounds in the context of the last three days. His reaction distracts her from the fever sweeping through her body, but only momentarily. The grin slowly fades as she lets her eyes dance in his, darting to his mouth and back. "What's the matter, Spike? Can't keep up?" Absently, she realizes her hands have started running over his skin again, tracing the carved muscles of his chest with the tips of her fingers. Her notion of taking it slow is starting to transform into an altogether new policy which has more to do with nakedness and those damn kissable lips.   
  
His mild growl sends shockwaves through her body as Spike's eyes narrow on hers. His voice drops, thick like honey, a dangerous smirk playing across his mouth. "You know I can keep it up, sweetheart."  
  
Biting her lip, Buffy leans closer to his face, her voice a breath on his cheek. "That's not what I said, Spike." Letting her moist mouth hover just above his, her entire body taut against his, she freezes for just a few seconds. "But since you mentioned it, let's test that theory." Buffy presses her lips together once as he strains up towards her. Finally, she lets her mouth press against his, holding that position for several seconds, the moment of contact coursing through her body like lightning, sparking and burning. Free to have feelings for him beyond the physical, Buffy revels in that freedom; any barrier left to her enjoyment of him is gone.   
  
Spike holds the breath he does not need as her lips move to his. Despite the countless kisses they've exchanged in the last few days, this one makes him twitch in anticipation. The weight of their admitted feelings is heavy on this moment. The kiss carries so much more than it did before. He wants it to start as soon as possible as he pulls towards her. Finally, their lips meet and the power of the feeling shocks him. He's surprised the electricity that shoots through him does not jumpstart his centuries-dead heart.   
  
After the initial impact, both fight their way to focus again, the awareness of their nakedness and position drawing a great deal of attention. As the kiss deepens, Buffy shifts on Spike's chest, letting her hands wander up to his shoulders. She pulls herself higher on him, letting her smooth skin drag against his, their legs tangling under the blankets. His arms wrap around her back, hands rising up to meet at the nape of her neck, holding her to him. Buffy feels the evidence of his arousal under her and smiles into the kiss. She dives into the kiss with renewed vigor as his fingers move up to entwine in her tousled blond hair. His erection becomes harder and more insistent against her belly. With a gasp, the kiss breaks. Buffy's eyes dance wildly in the half-light, pupils dilated as wide as possible. Her eyes are black pools in this light and Spike quickly loses himself in them. Moving her hips in a slow circle, she grins at Spike. He bites his lip for a second, choking back a moan.   
  
"What did I tell you, pet?"   
  
Letting her hips continue to rotate, brushing his cock lightly, she replies, "Never really doubted you, Spike. You haven't let me down yet..." He bites back the smart aleck comment he had prepared, their words dancing back and forth between playful and serious with little warning.   
  
"Don't intend to." Spike's hands move down her spine, tickling her slightly with the light touch before reaching her hips. He lets his hand ride the rotation for a moment before stilling her body above him. They've had sex too many times to count in the course of this spell...but this, this time is different. They both know it. Both fully aware of their free will, continuing on this course will make a louder statement than even those tentative words they exchanged. That broke the ice, this is going to shatter it.   
  
His deep voice breaks the quiet. "You sure 'bout this, Slayer?" Spike's eyes won't release hers. Buffy tries to listen to him over the pounding blood in her ears. Being in his proximity jams all her frequencies 'til she's sure her body emits a low hum. She can feel every inch of contact between them and it is simply not enough. She wanders if it will ever be enough.   
  
Never looking away, Buffy nods, nibbling at her lip, not in nervousness, but anticipation. She knows he is not just asking about the sex, but about everything between them. "Yes. I'm sure."  
  
Spike thankfully steps off the precipice and brings her body down onto him, filling her slowly, deliberately. This is the first time. The first time they've truly chosen each other and he wants to make it last. He wants to memorize every taste of her, every small movement of her face, every fleck of light catching her hair, each and every time she touches him with her hands, her legs, her lips, her whole self.   
  
Buffy inhales deeply as he enters her. The faint scent of freshly turned earth and grass from the cemetery, the waxy smell of the candle, and underneath it all, him. The scent of his maleness, leather, smoke, nighttime. She doesn't stop to think what nighttime smells like - it is simply his scent. Her fingers dig into his shoulders as he finishes his slow and methodical penetration. They are locked together now, quivering in the knowledge of what they have just done. Vampire and Slayer together by choice.   
  
Buffy's heart, which had been racing, slowly steadies. A moment of pure knowing passes through her. He is right. He fits her in the all places she needed and some she never knew about. And he loves her. He hasn't said it, but the knowledge settles around her with comforting certainty. No one will understand, but it occurs to her that they don't actually need to. She understands in her gut why this works, why this feels like coming home. She just can't put it into words.  
  
Spike gazes up at her, her heat filling him as he filled her. He wonders if he could well and truly combust while making love to the Slayer. His mind catches around his last thought. Making love? Is that what this is now? No longer sex or fucking or just getting their rocks off...but love-making? He wonders if you can actually make love, build it through motions and words and gentle sighs. Truly make it. His thumbs run in circles on her hip as he feels her body shiver, adjusting to his presence.  
  
Buffy wants to move and wants to stay absolutely still at the same time. In the cool , early morning hours, she and Spike can almost stop time, living this in-between time before the world wakes up. It is their moment and she wants it to spin out slowly, to savor it.   
  
Finally, with an unspoken agreement delivered with only eyes and body, they start to move together. She rises and falls on him, gentle as a breath. He comes to meet her, feeling her silken skin envelop him in a tender embrace. Their movements are invested with a new depth and while it is comforting, it is also unsettling in its newness. With grasping hands and searching eyes, they feel their way through this uncharted territory. Buffy and Spike are more naked than they have been in days, as they have now exposed much more than skin to each other.  
  
The inevitable pressure builds, their pace rising to meet the demands of their bodies. Spike's hands grip her hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. Leaning forward so her breasts just brush his chest, her hair tickling his cheek, Buffy kisses him. Gently, then more insistently as her body takes control of the rhythm. Spike feels his body tighten and his hands run up her back, finally reaching and holding the side of her head as they continue to kiss. Early waves start to run through Buffy's body. With one final drive, they come together, breaking their kiss as they fall over the edge together, breathing hard. Eyes locked into each other, lips just barely touching, they gasp as their bodies shudder in pleasure. Buffy lets Spike see the ripples shake her, her skin heated under his hands. Spike pumps deep inside her, once again wondering at the warmth of her, the life pulsing in her that he can share for the minutes he spends in her arms.   
  
Still entangled, they kiss softly, no words exchanged or needed as they fall to sleep again, the first light of dawn just breaking through the darkness.  
******************  
Author's Note: I know, it took me forever to get this chapter ready! Sorry! Real life was really getting in the way last week...this week should be smoother! (Please note: there is no NC-17 version of this chapter on my site.) Enjoy! -Tiana 


	23. Chapter 23: Heartbeat

*****  
Chapter 23: Heartbeat  
*****  
A chill runs through Buffy, goosebumps spreading over her exposed skin. She wakes enough to realize that her leg has escaped the confines of the blankets. As another involuntary shiver runs through her, she yanks the leg back in, jostling her partner in this little cocoon. She freezes as she feels him twitch, his body reacting to the movement. In the past, Buffy has seen him come to full alertness from a dead sleep at the smallest sound or movement. She turns her head and smiles at his sleeping form. Either he is completely worn out or is so comfortable with her that his instincts are taking the night off. Or maybe both. Peeking towards the other side of the crypt at the high windows, Buffy is forced to amend her statement. Maybe he's taking the day off, as the night is long over. She can tell it is morning, bright sunlight pours through the windows, far from their nook.   
  
A myriad of thoughts rise to the surface, reminding Buffy that she is probably missing class again, that Willow is probably wondering why she is missing class again, that her Mom is coming home the day after tomorrow and that she just may be in love with a vampire. Again. She closes her eyes and shoves these worries down for the moment. Turning her gaze back to his peaceful face, she dissolves, worries forgotten. Remembering how she woke him earlier this morning, a little smirk touches her mouth. But for now, sleep. She is still a bit tired and it's probably not all that late yet anyway...  
  
Spike's hands move on her back, pulling her tighter to him as he wavers between sleep and wakefulness. These last few days with Buffy have wrecked his normal routine. Here it is late morning and he is starting to wake up. Of course, it has been more than worth it. He feels her smooth skin under his hands, remembering its golden glow in the candlelight hours before. She was a gilt goddess in his arms and here she is, still in his arms. It is almost too much to believe. He fights the urge to wake her just yet. A bit more time with his thoughts and the sensation of her body at rest. The slow, steady heartbeat thrums in his ears, the infectious warmth of her body against his. He borrows her life and she brings him right to the edge of being human again. Something he didn't think he really wanted, but with her, well, all bets are off.  
  
It has not escaped Spike that falling for the Slayer will mean more than just sex and warm cuddles. It will mean change. For him and for her. The chip keeps him from killing, but he knows the change has to run deeper. He has to learn to leave the bloodlust behind. Luckily, lust is a great substitute. And it's not like he doesn't still get to fight. Now he can fight alongside her every night, watch her go through the deadly motions of slaying right next to him. That skin glistening with sweat, little sounds of effort as she punches and kicks. For him, that is pretty much foreplay. A grin plays across Spike's mouth as his hands slide gently down her back. The scent of her alone in the crypt is intoxicating. Her arousal covers him, musky and sweet. The faint scent of jasmine tickles his senses.   
  
It occurs to Spike that he may have to get along with her friends now He wants her to be happy with him and he is starting to realize that he will do almost anything to make it that way, even making nice with the Scoobies. The birds aren't so bad, but the whelp and the Watcher...wankers. He represses a chuckle, fearing waking her. He wants her happy. He'll find a way to get on with those two. Love is truly a funny thing, makes a man do funny things.   
  
Leaning down ever so slightly, Spike presses his lips against the top of her head. Her hair is soft under his mouth, smells of honeysuckle and vanilla. Feeling his body stir under her, he thinks waking her may not be such a bad idea. Between his vampire stamina and her Slayer strength, they could do this for days...and actually, they have. Tilting her chin up, Spike leans down to kiss her lightly on the mouth. Her lips burn his with their soft warmth. She is still for a moment and then he feels the small movements all over her body as she starts to wake. Tiny twitches of her skin and an acceleration of her heartbeat signal her attention as her lips begin to move on his. Her mouth pushes his open a slit and her tongue slides in, seeking his. Their tongues touch, gently tangling as the kiss begins to intensify.   
  
Buffy feels a wave of heat course through her. She wonders if it will always be like this with him. His touch makes her body contract, her skin too tight all of a sudden. Her hand comes up to wrap in his platinum curls, softer than she ever expected, the harsh light of his hair deceptive. She wiggles her fingers, mussing it some more as she laughs softly through their kiss. Spike pulls away just a bit, eyes seeking hers.  
  
"What is it, luv?" His voice is still rough and husky, rusty from disuse.  
  
"This hair. It's just like you." Spike cocks his head at her, wondering if she's gone a bit soft in the head.   
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
She smiles at him, putting both hands into his curls to rough them up. She loves that just-fell-out-of-bed look on him. "See, it looks hard, the color, the texture...all sharp and severe. But then I get closer..." Buffy presses against him a bit harder, letting her skin mold to his. He takes in a deep breath as he feels the warmth between her legs burn into him. She lets the fingers of one hand twist in the curls as the other trails gently down his face, towards his mouth. "And closer...and it turns out to be soft, touchable...not harsh at all, not at all what I expected." She smiles for a second as her mouth moves towards his. Her finger traces the lips lightly, pulling the bottom one down just a bit. Releasing, moving her fingers to his chin, Buffy dives back into the kiss. She deepens it, arcing her body into his again. His hands clutch her sides, fingers digging in. With a gasping breath, she lets go. "Like you."   
  
Spike chuckles as he sees her point. "Only got one thing wrong, pet."  
  
"What's that?"   
  
Spike shifts under her, his erection brushing her skin. "I'm not soft."   
  
"Well, thank god." Buffy winks at him, sliding down a bit to kiss his neck. She opens her mouth and lets her teeth drag down his neck, ever so lightly scoring the skin. A tremor runs through Spike's entire body, so hard that it transfers to her. His clutch on her convulses, fingertips turning white as he presses harder into her skin. Grinning to herself, Buffy kisses back up his neck and then repeats the motion, this time pausing to nip the skin between her teeth a few times. His body reacts violently to this motion, pressing up towards her. A low rumble begins to emanate from his chest. Any fog of sleep left over his mind is burned off by the feeling she is drawing out of him. Buffy puts both her hands on his shoulders and shimmies a little further down his body, letting her tongue drag down his chest. She veers toward one nipple, her smile widening. She knows he is strung tight right now, a wire waiting to be plucked. He cannot see her face clearly through her hair, does not know what is coming. All the better. Moistening her lips, she plants gentle kisses on his breastbone, soft and delicate. She moves toward the right, kissing her way. His hands continue to hold her tightly. She flicks her glance up at him through her fallen hair, catching a flash of blue in the dim light. He is watching her, his eyes lock on hers for the split second before she lowers herself back to his skin. Pulling her lips back, Buffy bares her teeth briefly before sinking them into his nipple with a little snap.   
  
Spike's entire body explodes into action, a loud and deep growl rolling out of him as he flips her under him in a blur of motion. Buffy's hair splays out above her on the blanket, a gold halo, shimmering in the dark. She breathes hard, matching the heaving of his chest, as he tries to regain control. His eyes spark blue and black, singeing her. She can see the muscles in his arm contracting and the little muscle in his jaw twitching. She smiles up at him, blinking her eyes innocently. Buffy's mouth opens, but before any sounds can come out, he is on her, covering his mouth with hers. He bites her lip slightly, drawing a bit of blood. The taste of copper is light on her tongue, rich on his. The next growl does not come from Spike and he is startled enough to release her briefly. When he looks into her eyes this time, he sees that she knew full damn well what she was doing when she roused him like that. God, he could truly love this Slayer. Dark and light blurred into one tiny package. Her hazel eyes are soft and dark, the edges of her mouth curl up. With a slow movement of her little pink tongue, she licks her lip, tasting the blood there.   
  
Buffy's thoughts of how this thing with Spike will work are buried beneath a haze of lust. She loves it when he attacks her, likes being the prey for once instead of the hunter. Knowing full well he can take it if she does the same to him. No worry of breaking him. Allowing her dark side to surface, rising to meet his. For the first time, she realizes that he wants it all - the whole Buffy/Slayer package. Doesn't want her to just be the light to his dark, but to blend the light and dark they both have. Because he does have light. It is hidden, but it is there. Much like her darkness. They can show more than their surfaces to each other.   
  
Buffy's hands pull down his back, feeling the taut muscle there, tensed under the skin. She lets her nails drag a little bit, leaving light pink trails down his alabaster skin. She can feel all the nerve endings in her skin come to life. His mouth has moved over to her ear, sucking and nibbling. His breath tickles her there, the deep whisper almost too quiet to hear. "Oh Buffy..." It is choked with passion, thick with desire. His kisses grow harder, marking her neck, tracing her jawline before devouring her mouth again. He breaks contact for just a second. "I lov-"   
  
Buffy grabs his head and kisses him, hard, swallowing his words before he can say them. A sense of overwhelming fear rises up amid the lust. If he says it to her...if he actually says those words, this will all become real. She knows she can't turn back after that point. If he says it, he will mean it. She has seen him love before. Is she ready?   
  
The light is hazy and dim, dust particles drifting through the sunbeams behind Spike. Buffy releases the sides of his head and his mouth. Their faces are mere inches apart. He opens his mouth; the rich, deep voice pouring out, filling in all the hollows of her body. "Buffy." One hand goes to her hair, pushing a loose strand off her forehead. His blue eyes are deep and fathomless. Spike can read the fear in her eyes, knows she is afraid of love. Luckily, he isn't. "I love -"   
  
Again, she stops him. Buffy's finger goes to his mouth, holding his lips closed. She shakes her head. Spike's brow furrows, frustration welling up in him. She moves her finger away and his mouth opens. The finger returns and he closes it. Buffy points at herself with the other hand. Finally, Spike nods, his mind spinning. Will she never cease to surprise him?   
  
Barely trusting her voice, Buffy warbles a bit. "Spike?" He nods again, his eyes searching hers. She clears her throat, trying to get the shakes out of her voice. She wants him to feel it, not just hear it. Her voice must be strong and steady. Buffy's hand goes to his chest, fingers splayed over his undead heart. The warmth radiates from her small hand, filling him. He matches her gesture, feeling the steady and rapid thump of her heart beating. The cool sensation sizzles against her skin, coursing through her. He feels a little hitch in the rhythm as she opens her mouth, testifying to the power of this emotion. "Spike, I..." She bites her lip, fear gripping her. Spike tips forward, soft lips pressing hers, knowing this is her battle to win. He moves back, his eyes serene. She feels her heartbeat steady, and then finally, "I...love you."   
*******************  
Author's Note: I know. It took for-EVER to get this chapter up, too. But look! Looooove. :) RL is busy busy busy. I'll try to do better! Next chapter: Buffy & Spike may actually wear clothes! Tune in! Thanks for the wonderful reviews - keep it up! ;) -Tiana 


	24. Chapter 24: Trust

*****  
Chapter 24: Trust  
*****  
Buffy feels his hand twitch over her heart, his entire body reacting to her words. As he opens his mouth to respond to her declaration, Buffy continues, her voice dropping lower. "And I want you." Her smile is slow and wide, and he is lost in it, words escaping him. He knows he needs to tell her how he feels, but she is destroying his ability to form coherent thought. Buffy's warm hand on his chest begins to move, but more noticeable is the swivel in her hips. Pinned beneath his weight, she can still manage to move in ways that are sending rapid fire signals to his brain, causing important wires to cross and short circuit.  
  
"Buffy, I..." His voice is thick with the effort. For some reason, Buffy wants to wait to hear it. She knows what he wants to say to her and yet, for now, she simply wants to hold this moment in her hand and study it a bit longer. Her eyes glitter with mischief.  
  
"Wait, Spike. I want to tell you something else first." His brows pull together briefly as he nods. "Come closer." He moves forward another few inches, mere breaths from her face. "A little closer." With one hand, she gently pulls and turns his head so his ear is nearly touching her lips. Spike feels a light warm breath on his ear as he waits for her next words. Instead, he suddenly feels her sink her teeth into his lobe. With Spike suitably off-guard, Buffy locks her legs tight around his waist and pivots, flipping him under her before he knows what is happening. When she lands, she has Spike's hands above his head. Spike struggles a little out of pure instinct. That smile is still on her face, seductive and dark. "Spike. Sweetie. If we keep doing this flippy thing, one of us is going to get dizzy. Maybe you should just let me be on top?" Buffy's voice drops on the word let, and they both know she is not asking. She is demanding, and she has the strength to back it up. Her powerful thighs squeeze a warning around his waist and Spike groans, his eyes rolling back in his head. He wonders why he would even bother to fight her at this point. This is some delicious form of torture and he's not keen on it ending anytime soon. Spike begins to realize that Buffy is done talking for the moment. He can go with that. If things go well, he will have plenty of time to tell her how he feels.   
  
Spike lets his body relax under her iron grip. Buffy could swear his baby blues turn a shade darker as he gazes up at her. The tension in his muscles loosens and she feels her own muscles follow suit. "So..." His deep voice sends a shiver down her spine. He presses his tongue against the back of his teeth before speaking again. "Baby wants to play?"   
  
Wetting her lips with her tongue, Buffy nods. She releases his hands above his head and sits up, legs straddling his waist. Spike's unneeded breath catches in his throat at the sight above him. Distant light washes her body, highlighting the shadows and valleys. The weight of her against his mounting erection is driving him mad. His hands come down to rest on her thighs, the tight lines of her flexed muscles traced by his strong fingers. He takes a firm grasp, digging his fingertips into her warm flesh as he drags up her legs to her waist. Spike sits up quickly, the distance between them too much. His hands continue their matching course up her body, reaching her soft breasts. Each hand circles, not quite touching the pliable skin.   
  
Spike's mouth is open slightly, tongue caught between his teeth as his gaze jumps from Buffy's breasts to her eyes. She is holding her breath, letting him drive for now. Her muscles are coiled again under her golden skin, waiting, waiting to leap into action. On the next lazy circle around, Spike lets his thumbs graze her nipples, bringing them to full attention. Buffy's hands slowly rise from her sides to lay over his, covering them lightly, fingertips touching against the backs of his hands. He can feel her pulse against the back of his wrist, thrumming her warmth into him with each beat. She presses against his hands as he begins to move them again, tweaking her nipples and caressing the soft flesh of her breasts. The heat of her skin passes into his hands from above and below, and he wonders if he will lose track of himself inside this cocoon of warmth. Buffy presses herself closer to him, her skin colliding with his at the waist. The air sizzles and Spike nearly flinches at the contact. She is heating up like a supernova. Suddenly, Spike needs to feel all of her against him, each square inch of quivering flesh pressed against his. In the same movement, Buffy's arms lift to rest on his shoulders as his arms wrap around her, pulling her sharply against him. Her breasts crush up against his firm chest, and the contact becomes another source of the spark between them.  
  
Spike takes a deep breath, his body shuddering with effort as he absorbs her warmth. He feels the muscles in Buffy's back flex and move and he fights the urge to clutch her tighter. Pressing her arms into his shoulders, she lifts herself up slightly. The action brings her breasts to Spike's mouth and he does not hesitate. His hands dig into her spine, holding her steady as his mouth dives forward. His tongue lashes out to kiss against her skin, taking one nipple in his mouth as she squirms against him. Buffy throws her head back, a low moan rolling up and out of her, her back arching in time with the sound. Spike continues worshiping her breasts with his lips and tongue as her hands dig into his blond hair, clutching the platinum curls in her fingers. The insistence of his erection against her stomach is throbbing, calling to her body, driving her onward. Baring down on his shoulders, Buffy lifts herself just a fraction more, drawing him down to her opening. Poised in mid-air, she drops her eyes. As if she called his name, Spike lifts his azure gaze to meet hers in the moment she impales herself on him.   
  
The combination of a moan and a sigh mingled from two throats rises into the still air of the crypt. They are motionless, eyes an inch apart, lips brushing, fingertips digging in, feeling every one of the million points of contact covering their bodies, lighting them from the inside. The urgency is there, but touched by something else. Something new and growing. A patience, a feeling of the future. They want each other right this second, but also for every second after this one. It gives them fire and peace all at once.   
  
A smile dances across Buffy's mouth as she lowers her lashes. Spike bites his bottom lip, nuzzles against her gently. They melt into a kiss, brushing lips at first, releasing and re-connecting. Each touch a spark that shoots straight to their core. The moment of quiet passes as the heat begins to build. The kisses grow in power and intensity, tongues dueling and tangling. Both fight for dominance, but neither really wants to win. It's the battle they truly enjoy. They continue to kiss, mouths hungry for the taste of the other. Buffy's hands race through his blond hair, grasping and clutching in her lust. As she takes ahold of his bottom lip with her teeth and nips, the coppery smell of fresh blood fills Spike's senses. Buffy feels him harden impossibly inside her and his hips jerk. She smiles into his mouth and then lightly pulls her tongue across his lip, tasting the drop of blood. Immediately, she dives back into the kiss and hears the growl she was hoping for as her tongue touches his. The sweet hot blood enough, too much for him. His hands tighten their grip around her shoulders as his head dips to her neck, kissing and sucking down to her collarbone. Buffy throws her head back, pressing harder into him at and below the waist. She is teasing, taunting, daring him to take control. Baby does want to play.   
  
The long column of her neck stretched in front of him, her breasts dancing in the cool air, the the incredible warmth and tightness of her around him... Spike is pushed until he gives. He has to move, he has to have her. With all his body tight as a spring, he dives forward, throwing Buffy off balance and onto her back, simultaneously driving himself so deep into her, she yelps. Her fingers twist in his hair, getting a grip. Her mind reels in pleasure, her success in drawing him flooding her body with new warmth. Her blond locks arrayed around her head, she smiles up at him, his chest heaving as he stares straight into her. Buffy's hand trail down his arms, fingertips dipping into each tight muscle, the skin stretched taut. His hands are planted on either side of her head, holding some of his weight off her for the moment. Buffy lets her hands dance further down and then slowly she moves them onto her own torso. Spike's eyes turn smoky as he waits for her next move. Somehow he doesn't expect what she does next. Her hands graze and caress the skin of her stomach before moving higher and higher. One hand squeezes her breast lightly, dragging her thumb over the nipple. He sees it begin to harden as she arches her back slightly in pleasure. Spike's throat goes dry and he struggles to swallow. Meanwhile, Buffy's other hand takes ahold of the other breast, gently massaging it. Her eyes slip closed as she continues to work over the silken flesh. Spike is mesmerized as he watches her pleasure grow, her breath shorten.   
  
Buffy's eyes slide open, lids heavy. He is newly stunned by the sultry Slayer beneath him. Even after these several days of naked abandon, she continues to show him more and more. He lifts his left hand and reaches out to touch her breast, meeting her hand there. Together they squeeze and roll the flesh before she pulls him away from the breast and starts to move lower. The edge of Spike's mouth curls up, mimicking her smirk. The muscles in his right arm continue to flex and twitch, holding him steady above her. Buffy gently pulls his hand with her, slowly dipping into her navel and then onward in single-minded pursuit. Her hand on top, they reach the source of her heat, the apex. Buffy presses his hand into her hot flesh, just grazing their joining. The light contact makes Spike buck above her and all of a sudden the world moves back into realtime after the slow motion of the previous minutes.   
  
The rush of her warmth and her scent drown him. He lifts and drives into her, once and hard. Buffy's grip on his hand tightens, pressing their hands into her swollen flesh again. She lifts her body to meet his on the next thrust. Driven so close to the edge already, they both know this won't last too long. Right now, they can get halfway to orgasm just looking at the other. Actual physical contact is almost too much to handle, sending surges of electricity through their linked systems. Buffy takes her other hand from her breast and snatches Spike around the neck, yanking his mouth to hers. He growls into her mouth, sending shivers down her entire body. His thrusts grow harder, driving her body into the floor with each one. Buffy links her legs around his waist, circling her clit with his hand in hers, their fingers tangling together in the slick warmth.   
  
Their kisses are more like bites, each nipping at the other in a fierce display of lust. Buffy's body begins to fill with extra heat, slow ripples radiating from her core on out with growing speed and intensity. Her hand joined with his presses harder, faster as he times his thrusts to her demands. Spike knows he can go at any moment and he bites into his lip as they break their kiss with a gasp. Foreheads pressed against each other, eyes drawn to the other he drives into her one more time, feels the shockwaves hit her pelvis with a blunt force, shooting up and into his system. Buffy screams and clutches tightly to him. The pull of her muscles is finally too much and he comes with a deep groan, the low vibration of his growl sending mini aftershocks through Buffy's body.   
  
Their bodies still twitching in pleasure, a sheen of sweat slicking them, Spike grins at Buffy. He pushes a wet strand of hair out of her eyes and tucks it behind her ear. She is gorgeous, skin glowing, cheeks flushed and she is smiling at him. Smiling just for him.   
  
"Is it okay if I say it now, Buffy?" Before she answers, Spike rolls down off Buffy and pulls her into him, seeking to hold his little ball of energy inside the circle of his arms. Her heat issuing in waves, intoxicating him until he is sure his blood is flowing again. Raising herself on an elbow, Buffy looks at him. The deep deadly blue eyes, cheekbones you could cut yourself on, sweet full mouth and she wonders how she could have missed it before. Only it is not the looks she wonders at, it is the part you cannot see that he shows her in the set of his mouth, the tenderness of his eyes. The goodness he would as soon hide, but the truth is, he can no longer hide it from her. She loves him and has been granted an all access pass. So why not? Something inside her wants to trust him. He understands her, he knows her and he still wants to say it. And now she wants to hear it.   
  
Nibbling on her bottom lip, Buffy meets his gaze again and nods.  
  
"Cor, Buffy, I love you. I love you so much."   
**********************  
Author's Note: Well, I hope everyone didn't give up on update for this fic! I hope to do better on the next chapter, but real life has been really busy for me! Sorry for the delay - hope it was worth it! -Tiana 


	25. Chapter 25: Into the Light

*****  
Chapter 25: Into the Light  
*****  
Psyche squeals, running around the pool in circles, clapping her hands. Cupid remains seated, but a smile lights up his face as he watches his love.   
  
"Love, my dear! Love! They are truly and madly in love!!" Finally, out of breath, she plops down in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck.   
  
"It's definitely love, my sweet," Cupid agrees. "But it is just the first step. A very big first step, but there is more."  
  
"Whatever do you mean, honey?" Psyche turns her head to Cupid, brow knit in concern.  
  
"Life. They have more obstacles to happiness than just about any couple on that Earth. Friends that won't understand, that will violently disapprove, as a matter of fact. Not to mention that nagging difficulty of him being undead and a vampire, while she is fully alive? Remember?"  
  
Pysche purses her full lips prettily at her mate. "Oh phooey. Reality. I don't like it." She crosses her arms on her chest and pouts.   
  
"Now, now, love. Do not forget. I am not helpless. I have my ways...okay?" Cupid lifts his mortal beauty's chin, meeting her eyes. "Okay?" His smile immediately spreads to her face and she lights back up.   
  
"Yay! That's my sweet Eros!" Eyes glittering, Psyche dives in for a kiss, toppling Cupid over in the process.  
  
*****  
"Are you out of your ever-lovin' mind!?!" Willow's eyes nearly burst out of their sockets. Buffy glances around as several heads turn their direction on the open quad. She yanks Willow under a tree for a bit more privacy.   
  
"Will, shhh! What happened to 'I'm your best friend, I'll support you?'"   
  
"Screw that! That was before you told me that you think you're in love with Spi-" Buffy's hand shoots out to cover Willow's mouth as her volume was rising on each word.   
  
Buffy grinds through her teeth, "Willow. Not common knowledge yet, could you keep it down?"  
  
"But Buffy, I'm on the edge of a major freak-out here. I mean, teetering . Look at me with the teetering!" Willow waves her hands in the air as she speaks, eyes still wide.   
  
Buffy sighs, closing her eyes. She knew it was a mistake to leave the crypt. After he told her, they just held each other for the longest time, absorbing the weight of the moment. Buffy could see he was getting more tired and decided to let him rest for the day. After all, it is his time to sleep. She kissed him and whispered that she would be back at sunset. He is there, in the crypt, sleeping soundly. His alabaster skin glowing in the dim light. God, she wants to be there in his arms.   
  
"Hel-LO, Buffy! Did I mention about the teetering?" Willow's hand flashes in front of Buffy's eyes, startling her as she opens them.  
  
"Oh, sorry. You were saying?"  
  
Willow sighs in exasperation, pulling Buffy down into a sitting position under the tree. "Buffy. Focus on me. Look right at me and tell me you are not serious. Spike? Vampire? EVIL vampire!?"   
  
Buffy nibbles on her bottom lip. Out here in the light of day, her best friend's green eyes boring into her in disbelief, it all feels so unreal. Did all of it really happen? Did they...fall in love?   
  
She knows it sounds preposterous. Last week, neither one could stop talking about how much they hated the other. So yeah, it is coming out of left field. But his arms around her, his sweet blue eyes, his gentle touch, those things are real. He's real. What she feels is real. She nods, answering her own questions more than Willow's.   
  
She feels her heartbeat steady and fall into a calm rhythm. When she lifts her eyes to Willow's again, Willow starts a bit. There is something different about Buffy's demeanor, something new in her eyes, in the set of her mouth.   
  
"I'm serious, Will. I've never been so serious. Believe me, if there's anyone that knows the topsy turviness of falling for a vampire, it's me. Buffy, expert number one on relationships with the undead." Buffy reaches out and takes one of Willow's hands in hers. "I...don't think I'm in love with him." Willow lets out the breath she was holding, opening her mouth to respond.   
  
Buffy continues, cutting her off. "I know I'm in love with him."  
  
Willow's mouth clamps closed with a soft click of surprise. Her voice is higher, nearly a squeak. "You KNOW you're in love with him? Buffy, how can you know...so soon?"  
  
Buffy's eyes drop to her lap, her fingers tangled together there. She attempts to collect what she feels for Spike. Tries to tidy it, tuck in the edges, neaten it so she can explain it. But it just escapes her grasp each time with a life of its own. It defies her description, her conventions. She brings her gaze to Willow again, no closer to explaining it than when she started this conversation.   
  
"Willow, you trust me, right?" Her tone is even, controlled. Willow picks up the mood of the moment and finds herself strangely calm. A cool breeze blows her hair across her face and she reaches up to tuck it behind her ear as she watches Buffy.  
  
"Of course, Buffy. With my life. You know that."  
  
"You have to trust me on this, too. I love him. He loves me. I don't expect you to understand it or accept it yet, but give me...give him the benefit of the doubt, okay? Trust me?" Buffy's eyes are pleading. She doesn't need her best friend's blessing to love Spike. She wants, but she doesn't need it. For now, she just wants Willow to stop screaming and waving her hands. Baby steps.   
  
Willow sighs, cracking under the earnest hazel eyes boring into her. "Benefit of the doubt?" She looks off in the distance for endless seconds, her green eyes scanning the horizon before returning to Buffy. "I already know him, Buffy, how can I do that? You do remember his few attempts on my life, right?"   
  
"Of course, of course, Willow. But just think of how many times he's tried to kill me!" Buffy's attempt at a joke has some effect. The corners of Willow's mouth twitch up.  
  
"Well, you got me there. He's tried to kill you way more times than me. It's like grade school...the boy who pulls your hair or in this case, tries to break your neck, really must like you. If that's any measure, this thing with you and Spike must be love." Despite her light tone, Buffy knows Willow is not okay with this yet. Buffy can hardly blame her. Willow's experiences with Spike have been way on the negative side so far. How can she get Willow and the rest of the gang to see that he can be different? How can she change their minds when she doesn't even know what changed hers? How does she put into words something she simply knows? He loves her, she loves him and this fact is indelible, unchangeable and somehow, forever. Does it make perfect sense? No. Does anything?  
  
Buffy realizes the quiet that is hanging in the air while she wrestles her thoughts. Bringing herself back into focus, she finds Willow studying her. Her green eyes are soft as she recognizes Buffy's struggles.   
  
"Buffy, I want to believe this will be okay, but you do understand why I'm worried, right? I wouldn't be a good friend if I wasn't."  
  
Buffy lets out a tiny sigh. "Of course. As long as you don't run off and try to stake him...something I think will spring to mind when I tell..."  
  
"Xander!" Willow's voice grows unnaturally high and Buffy sees her shake her head slightly, cutting Buffy's thought short.   
  
Xander's voice comes from close behind Buffy. Buffy holds her breath, hoping and praying he wasn't there long. "My favorite college co-eds! Give the townie a big kiss! No? A hug? A friendly wave?" Buffy turns and waves weakly at Xander, struggling to plaster a smile on her face gone pale. "There we go, with such enthusiasm. So, what's up?" Xander flops down on the grass, looking from face to face.  
  
Simultaneously, Buffy and Willow pipe up, "Nothing!"   
  
"Alright, ladies, I'm on to you." Xander's voice grows stern as he frowns at them both.  
  
The girls exchange worried glances. Buffy starts to open her mouth, but Xander interrupts, waggling his finger at each of them in turn. "No more mid-day mochas! Look at you, with the jitters and the twitchiness."  
  
Willow's laugh is too high and infused with false cheerfulness. "You caught us, Xander! Bad naughty college girls. Can't hold our coffee."  
  
Xander turns to Buffy, "So, why the caffeine infusion, Buffster? Up all night giving some vamp the business?"  
  
Buffy's face flushes red almost immediately and Willow straightens up suddenly. "No! No business! I gave no business." She pauses. "What business?"   
  
"Okaaaay, I'm really close to backing away slowly with my hands up, gals. Simmer down. It's slang, Buffy. Something the kids today say? Let me simple it up. Were you up late slaying?" He knits his brow at his clearly wired friends.  
  
Buffy laughs nervously and Willow joins in. "Oh yes, slaying. Lots and lots....and lots of slaying." Buffy's face continues to flush as she re-lives the 'slaying' she was doing all night. How will she ever be able to tell Xander the truth? Even in the midst of this nerve-wracking conversation, Buffy's mind wanders. The need to have him is overwhelming. The thought of Spike's face at rest when she left him, mouth soft and inviting, cheekbones sharp and enticing. She shivers in desire.   
  
"Cold, Buffy? Xander's voice slams her back into the present.   
  
"Oh uh no. Anyway, I...uh...we gotta go. Late for class!" Buffy stands up, grabbing Willow's elbow. She has to get away before she slips up in front of Xander. She'll think of a way to break it to him. Later.  
  
Willow looks confused. "We are? But..." Buffy widens her eyes at Willow, making sure Xander can't see her. "We are! Late! So late. Like she said. See you later, Xander!!" Both girls stumble off quickly, leaving Xander to stare after them.  
  
He shakes his head. "I love those girls." He gets up to leave the quad, brushing off his pants. "I mean, I don't understand them at all...but I do love them." He grins wryly and heads off in the opposite direction.   
  
************************  
Author's Note: Well, I did say that Spike and Buffy would eventually wear clothes again...so, in this chapter, at least Buffy is! Anyway, sorry for the somewhat long delay between updates. Hope you enjoy!   
-Tiana 


	26. Chapter 26: Sunset

*****  
Chapter 26: Sunset  
*****  
Buffy paces, wondering if she can wear a track in the carpet in one afternoon. For the dozenth time, she goes to the window to check on the sun. More to the point, she checks to see if it is getting any closer to the horizon.   
  
"Stupid sun. Go DOWN, already!" Buffy flings the curtain back down and takes another lap around the room. She knows she could go to Spike now, before sunset, but she won't. She told him sunset and that's when she's coming back . Not earlier. Call it Slayer pride. Only she's about ready to throw that pride out the window and sprint to his crypt. She wants him in the worst way. Her skin is nearly humming in anticipation of his hands on it again. Buffy wonders if it will always be this way. She is already thinking about Spike in terms of forever, something she rarely allows herself to do. The short lifespan inherent in her calling keeps her tiptoeing around that word - forever. But somehow, she can see it with him. A small smile plays across her lips. Right now, though, she would settle for a freaking sunset. The smile disappears.   
  
With an exasperated sigh, Buffy flings herself onto her bed, grabbing a magazine from the bedside table. She had tried killing the afternoon in her dorm room once she was done with her classes, but Willow had finally, politely, asked her to get the heck out. Her pacing and sighing were driving the redhead to distraction. Buffy chuckles as she remembers the words Willow finally blurted out: "Listen, Buffy, is it possible you could try to will the sun to set somewhere that is else? I'm trying to read!" Despite her tone, Buffy saw the smile in Willow's eyes. A romantic at heart, Willow could understand the flush of new love, the way your body just itched, waiting for your next chance to see that special person. Willow could still not believe that person was Spike, but at least she understood how hard it is to wait.   
  
Buffy tosses the magazine aside and leans her head back, eyes closed. Meditate, I could try to meditate, she thinks. I used to be good at that. Crossing her legs Indian style, Buffy sits up, back straight as a rail. She begins taking in deep breaths and exhaling them forcefully, cleansing her body. She tries to clear her mind, letting thoughts flow out of her like water. All her thoughts are of Spike and they don't really want to go but she continues to try. Her heart, racing before, starts to slow. She tries to hear it, the gentle thump thump in her chest. Tuning her breathing to her heartbeat, she feels the beginning of the calm steal over her. However, she does not remove all distraction. In her mind's eye, she sees Spike. Sleeping. Naked. His peace becomes her peace. No other thoughts interfere for a period of seconds that stretch into minutes. Buffy loses herself completely in her trance.  
  
Then, the Spike in her vision wakes, stirring slowly. Her breath catches once. He stretches slowly, arms above his head, the muscles in his torso rippling. A sudden rush of warmth courses through her, filling her veins. He runs his hands through his platinum curls, ruffling them. Buffy's heart begins to beat a little faster. One hand runs down his carved abs and rests there as he props himself up on his other arm. Buffy's own hands begin to wander over her body, squeezing her breasts gently, feeling the skin tighten around her nipples. She gasps lightly, startled by how sensitive her skin is already. Finally, her vision of Spike opens his eyes, those blue blue eyes blaze straight into her, instantly shortening her breath and causing her heart to race. One of her hands runs up her neck as the other descends, sliding between her legs, pressing into the fabric of her jeans. She flinches, the rough seams of the jeans scoring her delicate flesh. The Spike of her mind gazes steadily at her, his body pure invitation. His mouth opens and that tongue, that tongue dances out and traces his bottom lip slowly. Finally, he speaks to her.  
  
"This a private party, luv, or can I join in?" Buffy's eyes fly open at the sound of Spike's rich deep voice. The real Spike's real voice. Her hands freeze in place on her body as her head jerks towards the sound.   
  
Buffy swallows hard at the sight that greets her. His arms are stretched above his head, hands hooked into the top of her door frame. Spike is in all black, the buttons on his shirt open enough to reveal an expanse of alabaster skin above and hitched up enough to tempt her with his lower abs. His jeans are slung low on his hips, the dark fabric tracing the strong lines of his hips and legs. His sleek form is framed in the door, the dim light just enough to show his body to her, to highlight his blond hair, waves loose and messy. Dim light. Buffy's eyes dart quickly to the window and then back to him.   
  
"Got tired of waitin', pet."   
  
Buffy swallows hard, trying to pull herself together. She comes up with one word. "Waiting?"  
  
Spike releases the door frame and takes one step into the room. "For you to come."  
  
"Come?" As soon as she says it, she closes her eyes. He got her there.  
  
"Yes, luv. Waiting for you to...come." He pauses, tracing his teeth with his pink tongue. "Said you'd come at sunset."   
  
Buffy turns back to the window, fighting her need to look at him. It is plain to her that the sun set less than five minutes ago. She grins and turns back to him. A wide, mischievous smirk dances across his face, drawing his sharp lines into relief. "I've never been known for my patience, Slayer." He moves one step closer. She swears the air is thick in the room, slowing his movements, constricting her breathing. And is it suddenly very warm?   
  
The room is filled with a dark orange light, the sun fading behind the trees. She pictures him bursting out of his crypt the second the sun dipped behind the trees, risking those last stray beams to reach her. It gives her a strange feeling of butterflies bouncing around inside her, ricocheting off her ribcage. No, wait, that's her heart. Pounding. He wanted to be with her that badly.   
  
Spike is caught in a shadow, his blond hair glowing in the fading light, but his form lost in the dark. Buffy wills him closer, but cannot find the coordination to move her body just yet. She can feel him watching her. His eyes sweep over her body, burning a trail over her skin. A light sheen of sweat rises up all over her.  
  
Finally, mercifully, Spike moves in closer. As his face comes back into the light, Buffy's world tilts a bit off axis. She has seen his passion over the last few days, seen his lust raging within him. But this, this longing that radiates from his eyes. She has not seen this before. His voice is husky, deeper than normal when he speaks again. "Missed you, luv."   
  
Buffy bites into her lower lip, locking on. "Bet I missed you more." Her voice is playful, but there is an undercurrent there that Spike can pick up. She did actually miss him. It wasn't a one-night...okay, like a three-night stand. The love she professed is still issuing from her in waves. Spike shakes his head slightly, still having a hard time registering the recent events.   
  
"Don't think so, luv."  
  
Buffy lifts one eyebrow at him. "Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" Her voice, their actions are light and teasing, but the sexual tension is drawn tight between them. Each move causes a reaction in the other. Spike runs one hand through his hair and Buffy's fingers dance across her collarbone. The anticipation is too delicious to ruin. Both want this game to play out a little longer. The result is inevitable. The length of the playtime is still up for grabs.   
  
"Me? Pick a fight?" Spike grins, moving a fraction of an inch closer. Buffy's chest constricts a bit more. She doesn't understand why she also has this streak of nerves running through her at a gallop. Seeing him again has her completely out of sorts. Of course, professing her love could have something to do with it. They've both had hours to turn their words over in their respective minds. Is she worried he will change his? Or that she will? Buffy nibbles on her bottom lip, trying to push out these thoughts. A glance into his eyes makes her think he is not changing his mind anytime soon. And she has already taken the plunge into the outside world by telling Willow. A huge step.   
  
"Yes, you. You live for fights, remember?"  
  
Spike edges within a foot of Buffy, still sitting on the bed with her legs crossed. He changes the subject. "What were you thinking of?"   
  
Buffy's heart skips a quick beat. Can he read her mind now? "When?"  
  
"When I got here tonight." She almost lets out a sigh of relief. He looks at her expectantly, but Buffy continues to chew on her lip, just staring at him. Tiny electric sparks seem to be popping back and forth between them, bridging the small distance.   
  
Finally, she decides to tell him. "You." He cocks his head at her, his smile returning. "I was meditating."  
  
"You were meditating on me?" The second Spike's words leave his mouth, Buffy is on them.  
  
"No, but that can be arranged." Her eyes are dark, the throbbing from below her waist interfering with her ability to think very clearly. Spike's mouth drops open just a bit. Dirty talk from Buffy? This is something he could get used to. He quickly recovers and makes a decision. Playtime is over. Or maybe, it's just beginning...  
  
Spike breaches the barrier between them and lets one finger reach out to graze her cheek. Buffy's eyes close, the relief of him finally touching her evident on her face. His fingertip is not cold, but slightly cooler than her skin. Spike brings the night in with him. The cool darkness, smooth and a bit sinister washes over her. She shivers slightly as his finger continues its path down her neck. His touch is gentle but firm. When he reaches the base of her neck, his finger continues to trail lower and lower, dipping between her breasts. She can still feel his skin on her through the thin cotton of her t-shirt. Suddenly, she feels very overdressed. In a lightning fast move, Buffy's hand shoots out and grabs his, freezing it between her breasts. Her eyes pop open, grabbing his with their intensity. His baby blues have turned storm cloud gray as he gazes down at her. Despite his slow and methodical movements, the barely restrained passion is there. Just under the surface. She can see it in the twitching of the muscles in his neck, the near trembling in his hand as she presses it into her warm flesh, burning through her shirt. She starts to realize that despite his bravado and his brazen arrival in her bedroom, he is...nervous? Since he started touching her, Buffy can almost smell the strangely unfamiliar fear on him. Her brow knits as she tries to delve deeper into his eyes.  
  
"Spike? Are you okay?" Buffy's hand caresses Spike's before moving up his arm a little bit, rubbing and kneading the skin of his forearm.   
  
"Mmm...yes, luv. I'm okay." His voice lacks its normal rolling sensuality. She squints at him.   
  
"Spike, this is me. Buffy. Don't lie to me. It's part of the deal."  
  
"What deal?" Buffy knows he is trying to divert her, but it won't work.  
  
"The deal of loving me, of being loved by me. There are standards, codes of behavior and stuff." Buffy's mouth twitches into a smirk as she reaches out to grab Spike's waist, hooking her finger in his belt loop and pulling him against the edge of the bed. She feels the tension in his body lessen.  
  
He swallows, his free hand brushing back her loose hair. "So, we're still...um...in this together, luv?"  
  
"If you mean, do I still love you, then yes. Silly vampire. I'm in for the whole enchilada, the whole nine yards and the whole kit and kaboodle...plus any other cliches you can think of." Buffy grins up at her lover, her eyes dancing in playfulness.   
  
Spike matches her smile, his tongue clicking against the back of his front teeth. "Well, that works out well, pet, 'cause I still love you too."  
  
The smile still plastered across her face, Buffy remembers the messages her body has been telegraphing through her for the last few hours. Find Spike. Get Spike. Have Spike. And finally, she can act on them. She sits up on her knees on the bed, facing him. She releases Spike's hand and hooks her hand into his waistband on the other side. She yanks, hard, and feels his body slam against hers, his erection already plainly evident. If possible, the smile gets wider.  
  
"Ready to go, huh?" She bats her eyes innocently as her hands move away from his waist and down his back, suddenly cupping his ass and having a good squeeze, pressing him against her even harder. Spike's eyes widen as his throbbing cock strains against his jeans.   
  
Recovering quickly, his grin is wicked. "Ready, willing and more than able, luv."  
*************  
Author's Note: Don't worry - to be continued in the next chapter! Anyway, hope everyone is still enjoying the fic - thanks for the great reviews!!! -Tiana 


	27. Chapter 27: Missing

*****  
Chapter 27: Missing  
*****  
Buffy grins back at him. This is the Spike she was waiting for. His hands go around her, sliding up and under her shirt. The touch is gentle, dancing up her spine. As they always seem to when Spike lays his hands on her, goosebumps spread all over her skin. His hands move higher and she can feel all ten fingers press into her hot skin.  
  
His eyes are hard on hers, the playfulness replaced by something more powerful. The fierceness of their wanting makes her skin heat, her cheeks flush. Buffy's fingers release his ass, moving within the tight circle of his arms to reach the front of his shirt. The fabric is crisp and cool, fine under her fingertips.   
  
Spike dips his head, moving his face closer to hers. She can see the deep blue of his eyes, flecks of gold flickering there. Under her hands, she feels the low rumble in his chest, a growl. Now that their love has been re-confirmed, his craving for her is multiplied and magnified to the point of near-combustion. Spike spent the last hours before sunrise as restless as Buffy. He woke up, missing the warmth of her body, the taste of her in his mouth. Pacing his crypt, running his fingers through his hair over and over until it stood up on end, he worked himself up into a frenzy. His love for her had only grown stronger in the time she was away from his side. But she had gone out into the daylight. To the world he is not a part of. To the friends that don't like him. What if she decided it was all a big mistake? The thought of never having her again was almost too much to bear alone in his dark crypt. But she had looked at him, truly looked at him with those sea green eyes and told him. She loved him. As crazy it was that they had fallen for each other, he had to try and believe it was going to last. When the sun finally dipped behind the trees, he had been out of the door like a shot, to confirm his fears or confirm their love.   
  
Thankfully, it was the latter. Spike's tongue darts out to wet his lips. His gaze drops to her mouth then back to her eyes. There they are, those green depths he had dreamt about and the look was there. The one that penetrated him, made him feel his heart try to beat. Finally, their lips lightly touch. Both squeeze their eyes shut a little harder, the contact a welcome salve to a long afternoon. The kiss grows deeper, tongues diving and tasting. Buffy's fingers begin to work the buttons of Spike's shirt even as they kiss longer and harder. So anxious from the anticipation, her hands shake, each button a struggle. Their kiss breaks and Spike's mouth dives to her neck, suckling and kissing his way up to her ear. Buffy tries to look at the buttons to ease her difficulty. A tiny growl of frustration slips out and Spike's head pops up in surprise.  
  
"Uh, Buffy? Luv?" His blue eyes are wide, thrown off track briefly. "Did you just....growl?"  
  
Buffy's eyebrows knit together tightly as she continues to try and undo a button. "Yeah, so? You growl. All the time. You growl when you're hungry, when you're tired, when you can't get a jar open!"   
  
"Don't forget horny, pet. I do it then, too, But hey, vampire here. Kinda my thing. But you..."   
  
She snaps her eyes to his, sparks flashing. How dare a piece of fabric and little pieces of plastic keep her away from his body. "Is it a problem?"  
  
The smile is slow and she remembers how he can give her shivers just by looking at her a certain way. This certain way. "No, luv. Rather liked it, to tell you the truth."  
  
Buffy bites into her bottom lip. "Spike? If we can find them all, I'll fix it, okay?" Not giving him a chance to answer, Buffy takes ahold of the two sides of Spike's shirt and rips them wide open. Buttons go flying through the air in every direction. Spike's mouth, open to answer her, snaps closed again. Guess she meant the buttons...and the shirt. He looks down, still smiling.   
  
"That's...three shirts by my count, Slayer. Looks like you're doing some sewing...or shopping."   
  
Buffy slaps his bare chest. "Three?" Her nose wrinkles in concentration. She begins to count off with her fingers. "Okay, this one. Plus the one that first night. Never did locate all those buttons....but three?"  
  
"T-shirt. In the crypt. Ripped up the middle? A nice black dishrag now."   
  
Buffy giggles. "Oh yeah. I forgot. Forgive me?" She looks up at him through her eyelashes, blinking slowly. "I can...make it up to you." Her fingers slide down Spike's alabaster chest, letting her fingernails drag a bit, leaving pink trails down his muscled body.   
  
"What did you have in mind?" Spike's hands rub down her back, sliding inside the waistband of her shorts. Buffy gasps, trying to keep the ability to speak while his cool hands take a grip on her ass.   
  
"Why don't I just show you? I'm more with the showing than the telling, y'know?" Buffy's fingers curl into the front of Spike's jeans, tucking the tips inside his waistband. She feels him flinch, her warm touch sending tendrils of warmth through his belly.  
  
Spike laughs, the sound rich and deep. "Sounds go-" Before he can finish his comment, Buffy's mouth is on his. Lucky for him he doesn't need to breathe. Her movements are lightning fast and he thanks whoever is looking over him for this tiny bundle of energy in his arms. Her soft lips slam into his, forcing them open immediately. Her tongue grabs his, twisting and tangling. Recovering quickly, Spike matches the force of her kiss. His near-combustion from waiting to see Buffy again has not truly been quenched. He starts to wonder if this is the kind of thirst that can ever be quenched. Having her only makes him want her more.   
  
It suddenly occurs to Buffy and Spike that they are both wearing way too many clothes. In a flailing frenzy of limbs and laughter, they manage to disentangle each other from their clothes. Buffy breathes a sigh of relief as she feels Spike's cool skin against hers. Finally.   
  
In the course of undressing each other, they've ended up on Buffy's bed in a heap, clothes strewn around them. Speed, not neatness, was of the essence. Buffy rolls on top of Spike, covering him with her petite body. Taking ahold of his head with both hands, she grins and brings her mouth back down to his. The kiss is light and gentle, little pecks at first. As Buffy's fingers dig into Spike's hair, the kiss grows stronger. Spike grabs her waist and pulls, rolling on top of her. The clutching and kissing regains its fury, the lust taking them past all boundaries of patience. They silently agree that they have to satisfy this before anything else. With a squeeze of her thighs, Buffy takes Spike over again, putting her on top. She giggles and they stop kissing just long enough for Spike to meet her eyes. His eyes twinkle in the dark room and his voice breaks the quiet. "Slayer."  
  
Buffy feigns ignorance. "Yes, Spikey?"   
  
"You always get what you want, don't you?"  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"And what is it you want? To be on top?" Spike tries to sound stern, but the laughter is creeping in.   
  
"On top of you, yeah."   
  
"Y'know, you could just tell me instead of bloody flippin' me 'til I'm dizzy."  
  
"I told you, silly vamp. I like to show, not tell."   
  
"You mean, like this?" Spike wraps his arms around Buffy and rolls them quickly, placing himself on top. Before he can react, she has them rolling again...and then... *THUMP*  
  
Silence.  
  
"Oww." Entangled in the bedclothes and now on the floor, Buffy rubs her head.   
  
"Oww yourself, luv. I broke your fall!"  
  
Buffy's eyes light up as she examines Spike's position. "And look, I'm still on top!"  
  
"Bloody hell, woman. Just come here." Again, the mock sternness quickly dissolves as their lips meet. Buffy leans down and presses her length against Spike, shoving the comforter out of the way so they are connected top to bottom. "Well, this is alright. Maybe I'll let you stay on top, then." He cracks a lop-sided smile, loving the way he can push her buttons.  
  
"Oooh, you! Let me? That's it. No mercy." Buffy locks onto his eyes, those eyes that melt her from the inside out. The smile fades from her eyes to be replaced by a soft tenderness. She has him, right where she wants him. The tenderness quickly turns to lust. It takes mere seconds to rev their motors right back up to overdrive. Buffy's mouth drops toward Spike's mouth, but takes a sudden detour to his neck. Spike can feel her hot breath against his skin just before moist lips press there. He slides his eyes closed. God, she does know what he likes. She nibbles down his neck, licking and sucking the length before dropping a kiss in the hollow at the base. Spike's hands come to rest on her waist, bracing himself for more. Buffy feels a surge of arousal race through her and realizes she may not be able to take this slow. Enough. She needs him. Her heart pounds. She is soaking wet and knows he is more than ready. With a steady hand and a shimmy of her hips, Buffy guides Spike's rock-hard cock to her entrance. His eyes open to land on hers again, her warm hand bringing him into her blazing heat. She slides onto him, slowly, watching every muscle twitch in his jaw, feeling his hands tighten on her waist. Finally, she is home. Filled and connected. Buffy exhales in relief. The hours between this connection were too long. Spike struggles not to move for a few minutes, letting himself feel her, letting the languid warmth seep into his entire body, loosening his joints, softening his skin. The next kiss is deep, long and breathless.   
  
She begins to move. A small amount at first, just a bit up and back down. The pace increases, building momentum. She wants more. Harder. Faster. Buffy drives down on him over and over, gasping into their kisses, grasping at him with her small hands. Spike's eyes glaze over for a moment. She is all-encompassing. The gentle scent of her soap mixing with her salty sweat and the musk of arousal. She surrounds him with scent and pleasure and heat until he begins to feel that sense of near-combustion again.   
  
Buffy bites his ear, not letting up in her rhythm, rolling her hips into his with Slayer strength. Her breath tickles him as she whispers, "Your turn."  
  
The throaty growl startles them both. Spike is on top before Buffy can take another breath, driving into her like a jackhammer. Buffy moans in pleasure, the sensation of him entering her with such power dissolving her limbs into jelly. He is bracing herself on either side of her head, coming within fractions of an inch of her face with each thrust. Just letting their lips graze on each pass. Making sure he can see her do it, Buffy drags her own hands down her chest, running them over and around her breasts. Spike bites into his lip, his eyes darting from her hands to her face. Just when he thought he could not come closer to completely losing control, she does this. Lays her hands on that taut little body right in front of him. Buffy's mouth is open a little, her tongue poking out to wet her lips. Her hands meet just above the site of their joining. Spike cannot easily see her actions, but her face tells him everything. As her fingers work below, her breath comes in bursts. Despite this new distraction, Spike does not stop driving home into her sweet depths. He is very close to coming and he sees that she is well on her way. One of Buffy's arms shoots up to grab the back of Spike's neck, slowing him briefly. She brings his forehead to hers, letting their eyes meet. Buffy's entire body stiffens as she inhales sharply. Spike feels her muscles contract over his cock and he lets go completely, coming hard within the tight circle of her arm. They both witness the emotion and sensation careen across the other's face as orgasm disintegrates their control and finally brings the release they crave.   
  
Minutes later, locked in each other's arms, Buffy sighs contentedly. She murmurs in Spike's ear as she grows sleepy, "Mm, missed you. Missed this." Her kiss is tender and gentle and it breaks Spike into a million satisfied pieces as he pulls her tight against him.   
****************   
Author's Note: Thanks for the continuing great reviews! Cupid & Psyche will return soon ! -Tiana 


	28. Chapter 28: Moonlight

*****  
  
Chapter 28: Moonlight  
  
*****  
  
Spike stirs a few hours later, his natural wakefulness at night overcoming his post-orgasmic need for sleep. His body and years of experience tell him it is still early. Still before midnight. His anxiousness to find her, to have her got him into her arms awfully early. Lying on his back, Spike turns his head very slightly to see the object of his affection. He feels the now-familiar tightness in his chest as he sees Buffy. Asleep, she looks smaller, softer, more gentle. It's hard to believe the power tucked away in this delicate creature.   
  
Having crawled back into the bed a few hours ago, her head is resting on his chest, one arm draped over him, the other tucked under her chin. The rest of her body is curled into his, one leg slightly nudging into his side. Even the pressure of her skin on his wakes his arousal. A small pocket of warmth where her knee meets his hip, the line of her arm across his chest and he wants to wake her, ravage her. Spike sighs quietly and closes his eyes. His slight movement seems to jar her and he freezes. Though he wants her awake, he wants her to wake on her own this time. Not sure why, it just seems...polite? Spike bites back a snort. When did he start being polite? Tiny thing already has him whipped like a little vamp puppy. Buffy makes a soft mewling noise and her whole body twitches against him.   
  
"Mmm...Spike..." Spike starts to answer, but realizes that Buffy is actually dreaming. About him. Despite the hours and hours of mind-blowing sex, this surprises him a bit. He is even there in her mind. In her subconscious. Wow. This is for real.   
  
Her voice breaks into his thoughts. "Oh yeah...right there. Mmmmm..." Spike lifts his eyebrows. So, this dream's like that, is it? The smirk is on his face before he can stop himself. Bloody male pride, can't fight it. He fights the need to puff out his chest and congratulate himself since the subject of his pride is on said chest. She is still moving and Spike is finding it harder and harder not to reach out to touch her. She has one of his arms trapped underneath her, but it is wrapped around her back. "Oh god...ohh ohh..." In her sleep, Buffy's voice is getting more husky, her breathing more rapid. Spike is becoming less able to control himself. And wondering why he is. Should he wake her or let her dream? She could have the real thing if she was awake. He is certainly ready to go. Her hand on his chest starts to move in a caress on his bare skin. Her right leg slips over his and between, sliding up and down slowly. Spike grits his teeth. Really not fair. "Spike! Don't stop....oh, harder!" Her voice is piercing him, driving him to move, to take her into his arms. But he holds back and listens. The curiosity is too much. The dream is clearly picking up steam, if the movements of her hand and leg are any indication. Spike feels her whole body move in reaction to something Dream Spike is doing to her. She tenses and relaxes, then moans. But her breathing doesn't slow and neither does the talking. "Oh. OH. OH!" Spike's hands clench into fists. This is too bleedin' much to ask. His Slayer is close to having a mind-shattering orgasm and he is only there in her mind! Buffy's head moves and Spike suddenly feels something warm and wet against his ear. Her tongue. Oh for crying...she is licking his ear. Now nibbling the earlobe. And working her way back down his neck. Humming against it so he wants to crawl out of his skin with desire. Her hand moves from his chest to the side of his face, turning him towards her. Just as Spike is going to crack and wake her immediately, she pulls him into a kiss. Her mouth is warm and insistent and he forgets that she is dreaming as her tongue enters his mouth. Who cares if she is dreaming? He is feeling this kiss all the way down to his...no wait, how did her hand get down there so fast... Spike's eyes pop open as he hears a sound he didn't expect.   
  
A giggle.   
  
Buffy pulls back and meets his shocked blue eyes with her mischievous hazel. "Hi, Spike." She smiles widely as he drops his mouth open. With a barely contained growl, Spike rolls her under him, pinning both her wrists above her head.   
  
"Playing with me, luv?" He pretends to be mad, but is secretly thrilled. She squirms, pretending to struggle, but really just as secretly thrilled as Spike.   
  
"You seem to like it, Spike..." His warning growl makes Buffy continue. "Well, truthfully, I was asleep and I started having this dream. About you." Buffy lifts her legs, and slowly wraps them around Spike's waist. Letting her feet run down the backs of his legs, she continues. "And it was getting me so...well, I decided I wanted the real deal." Buffy nibbles on her bottom lip, fully aware of the affect her dream behavior and current actions are having on Spike. And loving it from the bottom of her Slayer heart. She remembers how his body tensed under her hand moments earlier. How she could feel the barely contained power struggling to burst free.   
  
Buffy lets one foot roam slowly down Spike's leg, digging her toes into his flesh slightly. "Not mad, are you?" She reaches up with one hand, letting a finger trace Spike's jaw muscle lightly. Spike closes his eyes briefly, enjoying the sensation. "You couldn't be mad at little ol' me..."   
  
"Mmm...'course not, pet." Spike's eyes roam over Buffy's face and down her body, taking in her rapid pulse and flushed cheeks. She can see an idea forming. "Come on."  
  
Buffy cocks her head to the side in curiosity as Spike stands up and backs away from the bed and holds out his hand. This is a twist. She smiles a little and gently places her hand in his. His grip is strong, and he runs his thumb gently over the back of her hand before pulling her off the bed and to her feet. With only a clear blue look and no words, he leads Buffy to the window of her room. Dropping her hand, Spike flings open the curtains, the nearly full moon flooding the room in silver blue light. Buffy blinks, amazed at the brightness. She turns to look at Spike, wondering why they are over here. He has taken a few steps back and the expression on his face has changed. The words in her mouth die on her tongue as she looks at him. Buffy finds herself wondering how she could have been so wrong about Spike for so long. That he could look on her with such sweetness, such love. It simply never occurred to her. Even seeing him with Dru did not prepare her for this. He loves her. 'Oh god, he really loves me.' The voice in Buffy's head is dumbfounded at how quickly these feelings have developed and how tight a grip they have on her and on him. He moves toward her, circling behind and sitting on the window seat, his back to the glass.   
  
Buffy turns around, facing Spike, the tiniest of smiles touching her mouth as she studies him.   
  
Spike just stares. He thought she was made of sunlight and warmth, but now he can see the other side of her more clearly than ever. The cool silver light washes over her naked body, outlining her in grays and blues, highlighting her curves and valleys. "I just wanted to see you, luv." He gestures towards the window, the moon low enough to see just above the trees. Unspoken is that he wanted to see her in his light, in his 'daytime'. She nods and smiles.  
  
The light turns his hair white, casts sharp shadows over his body. The unnerving illusion that he is made of stone, of ivory is in full force. She, as always, expects Spike to be cold to the touch, but he is not. Stepping closer, she reaches out to his cheek and it is cool, but not cold. And soft, not hard and unyielding. The illusion drops away. He may be undead, but he is still flesh and he does live. Not physically, but in every other way. He tastes the world around him, drinks it down in big gulps. Touches and tastes and scents, all devoured. And love. God, he loves. With bottomless devotion and passion. Buffy realizes how badly she wants that. How she has always envied his ability to love so hard it hurts, so furiously it burns. Looking on him in the light of the moon, she can start to feel that fire. And it feels good.   
  
Buffy slides in between Spike's legs and stands there, gazing down at him. With both hands now, she strokes the sides of his face tracing his cheekbones with her thumbs. Spike's arms lift to circle her, hands curving into her backbone. She smiles, just a little and he matches it. The weight of his hands on her back is a welcome pressure. Dipping her head ever so slowly, Buffy brings her mouth down to his. Their lips brush once, twice and then the kiss takes hold. It builds in intensity quickly, their mouths seeking, and finding, that fire. Spike's fingers dig into Buffy's back and she tangles her fingers in his sleep-tousled curls. Without breaking the kiss, Spike's hands slide down, hooking Buffy's thighs and pulling her into his lap. She makes a noise into his mouth as she settles in to straddle his hips. Any question of his readiness is immediately erased. The night is his time and Spike is fully alert. Buffy smiles into the kiss before pulling back a few inches. Spike's hands run back up her spine and into her hair, holding her still. "Thought you just wanted to see me?" Her grin is full of mischief and Spike answers her with one raised eyebrow.  
  
"Buffy, luv, I've never been good at keeping my hands to myself."  
  
"Right. Less look-y, more touch-y. I knew that. One of the things I love about you." She nibbles on his lip before diving back into the kiss. For just a moment, Spike disconnects from the moment as he turns her words over in his head. Does she even realize what she just said? She just threw it out there again. Not as if she didn't mean it, no, as if she means it so much it comes out naturally. Arousal burns through Spike like wildfire. The growl rumbles up from his chest as he lifts her just enough. Just enough to drive himself home in one smooth motion, flush into her warmth. Buffy gasps, his movement so quick and so complete, she is taken off-guard. Her arms flail out slightly for balance and she ends up with her palms pressed against the cool glass of her window behind him.   
  
The smile on his face sharpens his cheekbones, creases the skin around his eyes, those eyes twinkling in the moonlight. The ache in Buffy's heart squeezes tight as he holds very still, filling her to the point where pleasure and pain meet. She pulls her palms away from the glass and rests them on Spike's shoulders as she rolls and lifts her hips in one motion. Now it is her turn to smile as he gasps. Recovering quickly, Spike licks his bottom lip slowly before leaning forward, flicking his tongue out to tease her nipple. Buffy lifts herself slightly in reaction, then slams back down on him. They teeter back and forth, the giver and the recipient of pleasure, of mind-blowing sensation screaming over their skin. Halfway home already , Buffy and Spike rock into each other in the blue light. The quiet is broken by moans and gasps and the slide of skin on skin. Accelerated motion and breathing herald the moment they are driving towards with every clutch and squeeze. Buffy throws her head back, arching her back as she rides up and down on him, harder and faster, harder and faster until the night is shattered by her short, ragged half-screams. Holding and watching his Slayer, Spike follows quickly as her inner muscles pull him right over the edge. Collapsing against him, Buffy rests her cheek on Spike's shoulder, her mouth just against the skin of his neck. Her breath pulses warm on his skin as he stands up, holding her to him. Leaning over the bed, he slowly releases her nearly limp body and she melts into the bedclothes, reaching out for him to join her. "Right back, luv." With a few quick steps, Spike is back at the window. With one last glimpse outside and back over his shoulder at his lover cast in silver light, he pulls the curtains closed.   
  
Back at the side of the bed, Spike looks down into Buffy's eyes for a few intense moments before slipping back into bed. He hates to let go of the night, knows that when the day comes, they will face more questions, tough questions. Questions of how this will work, how they can be together. Right now, he has no questions. As Buffy's arms slide around, pulling him to her, he has the only answer he needs.  
  
*********************  
  
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating. I've been working on another short fic inspired by the season finale of Buffy. Check it out - it's called Chosen. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! -Tiana 


	29. Chapter 29: Come Back

*****  
  
Chapter 29: Come Back  
  
*****  
  
The room grows warmer with morning light. Buffy moans quietly, rolling over. The sinking feeling that she should probably be somewhere besides in bed is confirmed by the time on her alarm clock. She curses silently, hoping Willow will share her notes from yet another missed class. Buffy's eyes move from the clock to the reason for her delinquency. In the filtered morning light, all blond and peaceful, he is nearly angelic. The slight pull in his mouth, almost a smirk in his sleep, spoils the illusion. Buffy's eyebrows lift. And the location of his hand at the moment really shatters that thought. He is awake. In more ways than one if that poke in her side is any indication.   
  
Buffy realizes they are quite caught in this cycle. Having sex, sleeping, having more sex. But god, she does not want off this merry-go-round. Ever. And today, well, she's not going anywhere 'til they have at least one more round. Wiping the grin off her face, Buffy feigns sleep, letting herself go limp. She's not getting off this ride until the music officially stops. Spike's hand continues to roam. Drawing on every ounce of her willpower, she resists responding, though her body is screaming for him.  
  
Spike's voice nearly does her in. "Buffy." Deep and gravelly, it never ceases to elicit some kind of reaction, but this time she fights it, remains motionless. "Oh dear, looks like the Slayer is still sound asleep." Buffy feels his hand start to move back up her body and barely manages to contain her sound of protest. She feels the bed move as Spike shifts his weight. "Nothing for it than to just get up, I guess." The tone in his voice is so obvious. He is on to her. She never realized in the time she's known Spike how much fun he can be. Playful was never a word that sprung to mind in the presence of the blond vamp. But wait, Buffy realizes he really is getting up out of bed. She pries one eye open to peek around and sees an incredibly gorgeous backside heading away from her. Away from her? Ack! Both of Buffy's eyes pop open.   
  
"Spike."  
  
"Talking in her sleep again. Cute…bit daft, but cute." Spike stops and stretches his arms above his head. Buffy feels her heart flutter as she watches the muscles in his back ripple.   
  
"Spike!"   
  
Spike runs his hands through his hair, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Mmm, Slayer? Thought you were asleep." Turning on his heel, he faces her, lightly rubbing one hand across his ripped abs. Buffy feels herself begin to salivate.   
  
"You did not."   
  
"'Course I did. Would I call you daft if I thought you were awake?" His eyes twinkle, his body gold-edged in the early light.   
  
"Absolutely." She grins at him. That's her playful Spike. Seriously, who knew? "Now get your ass…and the rest of you…back in this bed." Buffy puts on a mock stern face and points at the spot on the mattress next to her.   
  
"Oho…that an order, luv?" Spike puts his hands on his hips, pretending to glare at her. "Vamps don't take orders from Slayers. 'Specially not naked ones…" He licks his bottom lip, slow and sensuous.  
  
Buffy gets that way down naughty feeling she is growing to love. She swings her legs off the bed, perching on the edge. Looking up at him through her lashes, she says, "Actually, the Slayer, naked or not, is the one person vamps should take orders from, luuuv." Her mimicking of Spike's accent on the last word nearly causes Spike to crack up. "Particularly one smart-ass, bleached blond, sexy with a side of annoying vampire like yourself." She raises one eyebrow, throwing down the challenge with that tiny movement.   
  
Spike purses his lips, gives the Slayer the once-over before taking a step backwards towards the door. Buffy's eyes widen slightly, but she is determined to win this battle of wills, playful or not. "Hold it." Her voice is straight from patrol, firm and commanding. Meaning to ignore it, Spike still hesitates slightly. Lifting both eyebrows briefly, Spike spins slowly and reaches for the doorknob.   
  
With moves that would make a vamp dizzy, Buffy shoots across the room. Her back slams into the door, effectively halting Spike in mid-reach. He jumps slightly, glancing over his shoulder, gauging the distance the Slayer just covered. "Impressive, pet. Maybe you should patrol naked. I think it makes you faster."  
  
Buffy's lips slip into a pout. She shakes her head, brushing off his "suggestion". "Thought I told you to come back to bed."   
  
"And I thought I told you I don't take orders well." The blue eyes dance, the duel between them causing his arousal to grow. This is how it has always been with the Slayer. Kick, block. Punch, duck. Action and reaction. Push and pull. He loves it.   
  
Her voice drops, dripping with honey. "Not even from me?" One eyebrow pops up, punctuating her question.   
  
Spike starts to say, 'Especially from you', but he stops himself. He wants to slap himself in the head for almost taking the game too far. He does bloody well want the Slayer to take him back to bed. Time to lower the resistance a touch.  
  
He cocks his head at her, taking in the tousled blonde hair, the searing green eyes, the perfect little pink mouth. God, she is sexy in the morning. He matches her voice's intention, but drops it an octave. "What did you have in mind?"   
  
Buffy's smile stretches across her face. She wins this one. Only he's not exactly going to lose, either. Leaning forward, she draws Spike closer with only her eyes. Soon, their lips meet and the sparks finally find a place to take fire. Buffy draws a breath, deepening the kiss after a few seconds. Spike's hands go to her waist, clutching the soft skin there. While the kiss continues to grow more heated, Spike feels Buffy's hands go to his shoulders. Innocent enough until she exerts a bit of Slayer strength. His defenses lowered from the kiss, he barely reacts as she grabs a hold and spins him around, switching positions. His back smacks against the bedroom door and his eyes pop open as their kiss breaks. Spike starts to protest, but the vixen is out in full force. He quickly closes his mouth at the burning look Buffy is delivering, her mouth parted and wet. Slowly, she brings one finger to her mouth, shushing him. He closes his mouth, swallows hard.   
  
Very quiet, very sweetly, Buffy whispers, "Close your eyes, Spike." In a sharp turnaround, Spike follows Buffy's order without a word of protest. His eyes slam shut. Buffy smiles before stepping back one step, taking him in. Admiring the slopes and planes of his body, the curves of muscle and the stretches of firm ivory skin. Stepping forward, she brushes her lips against his, but moves away quickly. Spike reaches forward to grab her.  
  
"Ah-ah! Not yet." Spike slowly withdraws his hands, the muscle in his jaw clenching. Patience has never been one of his virtues.  
  
Stepping back into Spike's circle of space, Buffy returns to the kiss, keeping it light and gentle. She moves from his mouth and up his jaw line to his ear. Baring her teeth, she nibbles on his earlobe, whispering, "You still want to leave, Spike?" Her body slides against his and he is covered in her warmth.   
  
"No, Slayer. Think I'll stay a bit longer." Even in this position, Spike is cocky. Buffy opens her mouth, lets her top teeth drag down his neck, lightly scoring the skin there. Spike shudders slightly with the effort of not grabbing her. The Slayer has asked him to exercise entirely too much self-control in the last few hours. Just as he ponders disobeying Buffy's commands, he feels something warm and wet a bit lower than his neck. Straightening suddenly, he realizes Buffy's mouth has encircled one of his nipples, delicately licking and nipping there before moving to the other one. Meanwhile, her hands have taken to roaming a bit lower. Spike gasps when one of her tiny hands closes around him. Slowly, she glides her hand up and down, pumping him to full attention. He can feel her smile against his chest, her lips dancing over the skin stretched taut. Her tongue zips out, teasing his skin, wetting it and then lightly blowing over the surface. Buffy releases long enough to place both her hands flat on his stomach.   
  
Before he can even breathe in protest, he feels the reason for her hand moving. Spike slams his head back against the wall, every tendon in his neck bulging as her soft, wet tongue touches the head. Her tongue touches, tastes, teases as Spike's hands clench and unclench by his sides. Finally, she takes the head in her mouth, lightly sucking, sweeping her tongue underneath. He moans and Buffy takes it as her cue to carry on. She takes him further into her mouth and Spike's eyes roll back in his head. As she begins to suck in earnest, he thanks whoever is out there for giving the Slayer such amazing control over her body and now over his. Up and down, she draws him close to climax in amazingly rapid fashion. Just as Spike thinks he should stop her before things come to a crashing end, he realizes it is much too late. His hands shoot out, grabbing onto her shoulders, forgetting all about the no touching rule. Spike has to brace himself because Buffy is not relenting. The pressure builds in him and with one last pull from her, he lets go, coming with a loud groan and pressure on her shoulders bound to leave ten little bruises. Buffy stays where she is, swallowing everything he can dish out. Finally, when Spike is totally spent, she pulls back. Sitting back on her heels, Buffy looks up at Spike. Still gorgeous, only now his world has been turned upside down. He slumps slightly against the door, eyes closed, breathing hard. Buffy smiles a little. He really can't seem to help those habits of humanity. If he had a pulse it would surely race.   
  
Buffy pops to her feet, moving to Spike quickly. Without touching him anywhere else, she leans to his ear. "Now are you ready to come back to bed, you stubborn vamp?" Her voice bites into him as surely as her teeth, only it is a teasing nip at his earlier refusal.   
  
Spike leans there for a few seconds, his breaths coming slower. Recovering in the blink of an eye, he snaps his arm around Buffy's tiny waist. Lifting her off the ground while moving a few steps to the bed, he lowers his mouth to her ear. The voice rumbles like low thunder, full of warning and excitement, "All you had to do was ask, luv."   
  
Buffy's mouth opens, the beginnings of an argument, of righteous indignation, right on the tip of her tongue. Spike silences her quickly with his mouth and laughs, soft and low. With an unceremonious thump, he drops the Slayer on her bed. Her thoughts of protesting, of questioning, of anything but the look in his deep blue eyes fly out of her head as his body covers hers and finally, Spike comes back to bed.   
  
********************  
  
Author's Note: I know, major delay in updating ! I was working on my other fic, Chosen. (Check it out if you haven't already!) Still, here is a new chapter and more to follow. Thanks for the reviews!! –Tiana :) 


	30. Chapter 30: Promise

*****  
  
Chapter 30: Promise  
  
*****  
  
Two hours later…  
  
Buffy rolls out of the bed quietly, trying not to disturb the sleeping vamp at her side. After extricating her leg from Spike's, she tiptoes toward the door. At a sound from the bed, she freezes in mid tip, peeking back over her shoulder. Spike turns on his side, burrowing into his pillow, but stays asleep. Buffy rolls her eyes skyward in relief and continues across the bedroom, grabbing Spike's black shirt from the floor and gently pulling the door closed behind her. Here it is the middle of the day and she hasn't showered, eaten or well, left her bedroom. She hopes Willow won't be so mad she won't give her the notes for yet another day of missed classes. Maybe she could have Spike write a Buffy-was-too-busy-having-sex-with-me-to-attend-school note. She smiles at the thought of him sitting at the kitchen island, naked of course, scrawling out the things they have been doing during the daylight hours. The thought of the kitchen elicits a rumble from Buffy's stomach, announcing her most pressing need. Food. Glancing back at her closed door, she sighs wistfully and makes for the stairs, slipping down them quietly as she pulls the shirt around her. She really has to let him sleep sometime and they get everything but sleep done when they are in bed together.   
  
With that thought and a smile plastered across her face, Buffy browses through the refrigerator. A bit of rummaging turns up some leftover spaghetti. Buffy shrugs. That will do. Standing by the microwave as it heats up her makeshift lunch, Buffy gazes out the window, lost in thought. She can hardly fathom how her life has changed in the last few days and she knows the changes are not done. Her stomach twists a bit in anxiety as she thinks about telling Giles and her Mom…and Xander. Oh God. Xander just loathes Spike. How will she ever get him to understand? Make him see what she sees? Her smile long gone, Buffy jumps as the microwave beeps.   
  
*****  
  
"I don't know, my love. This could be very bad." Psyche's flawless skin creases between her eyebrows in consternation.   
  
"What do you mean?" Cupid glances up from his reading, noting his mate's position over their gazing pool. "Has something gone amiss with our new lovers?"  
  
"Not yet, but look…that friend of hers. He is coming toward the house. Does he not hate our darling vampire? This could get ugly."  
  
His curiosity piqued, Cupid lays aside his book and comes across the room. Brushing against Psyche, he perches on the edge of the pool. The view takes in Buffy in her kitchen as well as Xander coming down the sidewalk, approaching the house. Spike is upstairs, sound asleep.   
  
"Well, you are certainly right. This could get…interesting. Let's see." Cupid's face is calm, unmarred by the worry evident on Psyche's. They both lean down, watching closely.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy leans against the counter, poking a fork into her now warm spaghetti. The cool surface touches her bare stomach and she looks down. "Oops. Forgot to button up…" Buffy slides her fingers down the button band, but finds nothing. "Double oops. Ripped all the buttons off in a fit of passion." Shrugging, she picks up the fork again. Who's going to see her standing here, half-naked in Spike's shirt?  
  
As if on cue, she hears a knock at the front door. Eyes widening, she freezes, fork in mid-air. Another knock and now, a voice. "Buffy? You in there?" Shit shit shit. It's Xander. Buffy hesitates, looking down at her food and then back towards the door. She thinks, I could just ignore him. Yeah, that would work. He knocks louder, calls louder "Buffy!?" A thud from upstairs makes her gasp. Spike. He's waking up Spike. Oh, double shit. This is not of the good.   
  
Dropping the fork with a clatter, Buffy sprints to the door, wondering how to get rid of Xander without letting him in. Sick, yeah, she's sick. That's it. Clutching the shirt closed, she snatches the door open a crack and pokes her head out. "Morning, Xander!" Her voice is chock full of false cheerfulness. Her sudden appearance startles Xander for a moment.  
  
"Oh, there you are, Buffster. I was gettin' worried. Thinking about knocking the door down for a minute there."   
  
The short laugh is even faker than her voice. "Oh, ha. Well, glad you didn't do that. Uh, can I help you?"   
  
Xander frowns slightly. "Are you okay, Buffy? You're acting a bit wiggy."  
  
"Absolutely fine. That's me, fine as fine can be." Buffy pauses, remembers her previous plan. "Except for the sickness. Oh, yes, very sick. Death's door." She coughs, not very convincingly.   
  
Just then, Buffy hears a voice from upstairs, calling her name. Muffled by the bedroom door, it is not easy to recognize. Xander's eyes bug out, matching Buffy's. Her heart stops beating for a minute, waiting for his reaction.  
  
"A man! You, Buffy Anne, have got a man in there! I knew it! Willow got all red and blush-y when I asked if you were joining us for lunch. Oh that sly Ms. Rosenberg, told me you were sick. Faker. Big faker!" Xander waggles his finger at her, edging closer to the door. Buffy hears the voice again and realizes if she doesn't answer, this is going to get ugly, quick.   
  
"Be right there, sweetie!" She calls up the stairs, her voice dripping with honey. "Well, there you go, Xande.r, you clever boy. Caught me with my pants down. Literally." Snatching Spike's shirt tighter around her, Buffy slips further around the back of the door, remembering she is wearing the shirt and nothing else.   
  
"Vixen. Who is it?" The slight note of jealousy always present when Buffy has a man in her life slips into Xander's voice.   
  
Buffy waves her hand dismissively. "Nobody you know. Uh, new guy at school. Yeah, um, helped me with my homework and the rest…well, you know."  
  
"You paid him with naked goodness? Buffy, that is not how the tutoring system works."   
  
"Ha ha, Xander. So, clearly, I can't go to lunch. Gotta go. Nice seein' ya. Stop by anytime." With each word, Buffy closes the door a little further, finally clicking it closed as Xander opens his mouth to respond.  
  
Through the door, she hears him. "Well, I should be going now, then. Bye." Her heart racing, Buffy leans against the back of the closed door, eyes shut. That was close. Xander would have gone nuts. Now, where was she? Oh yeah, Spike was calling. Pushing away from the door, Buffy opens her eyes. Her throat goes dry as she looks up the stairs. Spike is standing there at the top railing, a sheet wrapped around his waist. It is the look on his face that stops her cold. He is hurt. Wounded. The pained look on his face is soon swept aside by a frown as he turns away and heads back to her room without a word. "Spike?" Buffy calls to him as she hits the stairs. Remembering how he stormed out the other night, she expects to have to stop him from tearing by her again. Moving quickly, she reaches the top of the stairs and turns to her room. For the second time in a minute, her heart constricts at the sight of her lover. He is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking at the carpet. The rage she expected is replaced by the much more unsettling quiet. Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "Spike?" She moves a little closer.  
  
He doesn't look up as he finally speaks. "So, which is it, luv? Ashamed of me or just in it for the sex?" Buffy feels her temper flare, but calms a bit as she looks at him. He still won't look at her.   
  
"Oh, Spike. It's neither. What do you mean?"  
  
"Had the whelp right there in front of you. And you lied 'bout us, hid me like a dirty little secret. Buffy, I thought…well. I was wrong, I guess." He starts to stand up.  
  
Buffy's temper surges back in a rush. "Sit down." Her tone is firm and serious. Finally, Spike looks up at her. His eyes wound her, the hurt blazing in blue flame. He sits back down. "Now, you listen to me. I'm in this because I love you. NO!" She holds her finger up, causing Spike to slam his mouth back shut. She kneels down in front of him, taking one hand in hers. "You will listen. Yes, you're right, I lied just now. Xander surprised me. But look…Spike, look at me." He meets her steady gaze. "I won't do it again. I am not ashamed of you, I'm not in it for the sex. I'm in it for you. And if my friends don't like it, well…we'll face it together next time." She smiles softly at him, "Promise." Spike leans towards her, taking her lips in a light kiss. She pushes the worry of what her promise will mean into the back of her mind.   
  
"Got a deal, Slayer." He glances down. "'Ey, isn't that my shirt?" The light dances back into his eyes.   
  
Buffy slaps lightly at his hand and whips the shirt off in one smooth movement. "There, that better?"  
  
"Very." Spike smirks as he grabs the newly naked Slayer around her waist and pulls her back onto the bed with him in a tangle of limbs and bedsheets.   
  
*****  
  
"Awww. Oh, Eros. They are the cutest. Oh my. Well, look at that. And now, the…whoo!" Psyche blushes lightly as Buffy and Spike decide to make up in earnest. She fans herself as she giggles. Cupid comes over and lets his hand slide into her long golden curls.   
  
His voice is serious. "It's not that simple. She knows it. He must know it, too. Her friends are everything to her. They don't and won't accept it."  
  
Psyche glances up at her mate, worry etched back across her face. "Make it work, love. I mean it."   
  
The unfamiliar tone from his sweet Psyche gets Cupid's full attention. He raises one eyebrow. "Like them, do you?" She nods. "I do, too. Their love is so pure and passionate. No wonder the other mortals won't be able to understand it. As usual, you are right, my dear. I did not need to make them love each other, but that doesn't mean I can't smooth their path."  
  
Psyche squeals, clapping her hands together in childish joy. "Oh, what will it be? What will you do?" She bounces to her feet as Cupid rubs his chin in thought.   
  
Suddenly, his eyes light up. "Perfect. I have just the thing. Wait here, my love." Tipping up her chin, Cupid plants a kiss on Psyche's forehead before leaving the hall, robes whipping behind him.  
  
*****  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Sorry for the delay between chapters. Things have just been busy for me! Next one should come quicker…I promise! -Tiana 


	31. Chapter 31: Hungry

*****  
  
Chapter 31: Hungry  
  
*****  
  
Psyche drums her fingers on the edge of the pool, her glance shifting from the two entangled blonds below to the door her beloved went through twenty minutes ago. She is growing impatient. Taking a deep sigh, she focuses her attention on the still water again.   
  
"Those two have the most stamina. And, oh my, flexibility…" Psyche feels herself flush a bit with arousal and starts when Cupid's voice booms across the chamber.  
  
"I'm back, my love!" She spins to see her handsome lover holding a handful of golden arrows. Her eyebrows draw together, wondering why he would leave for twenty minutes just to get arrows. He has arrows everywhere! "I know what you are thinking, dear. Why did that Cupid leave just to get arrows, right?"   
  
Psyche grins, nodding.   
  
"Well, I will tell you. I had to go visit my sister, Suadela." He grins, as if he has just explained everything with that statement. Psyche cocks her head at him, wondering what his sister, the goddess of seduction, has to do with the current problem.   
  
"But, love, you don't need anyone seduced. I think that part is taken care of." She points her thumb down to see Spike and Buffy starting Round 2.   
  
Cupid laughs, low and soft. "My sweet, darling Psyche. Seduction is only what Suadela is famed for…it is not her true power, it is merely her…shall we say, specialty?"  
  
Psyche raises her eyebrows. Suadela's powers of seduction are quite legendary. She did not realize that was not all there was to the sultry goddess.   
  
"I will explain..." Cupid lays out the plan in detail for Psyche, who nods and smiles more and more.   
  
Psyche giggles, very excited at this new turn of events. "Oh, my dear, you are positively glowing. Isn't this fun!"   
  
When Cupid sets the arrows down, she frowns a little. "What are you doing? Are you not going to shoot now?"   
  
"No, as much as I hate to wait, I will. The effects are only for about two days and I don't know when they will all see each other next. We will have to watch…and wait…"  
  
*****  
  
"No, I really do."  
  
"Do not, Slayer." Spike's grip tightens around Buffy's waist.  
  
"Seriously. I do." Buffy puts on her best impression of Willow's 'resolve face.'  
  
"Luv, I can see that little smile. Not bloody convincing."   
  
Buffy makes a mock serious effort to squirm out of his grasp, but only succeeds in rubbing against Spike's naked body in a most enticing way. "Now, now. That's not playing quite fair." His hands begin to wander.  
  
"Spike!" Buffy squeaks out a protest, but the magic of his touch is turning her resolve into one big puddle of compliance. She falls limp against him.  
  
"See, pet…knew you weren't getting up. I, on the other hand…" Spike's voice takes on a silky tone as he feels his body warm to hers.   
  
"But, Spike. Hungry." Buffy's tone is petulant, not at all the tough girl she was trying to be mere moments ago. Her bottom lip juts out.  
  
"Oh, bottom lip. Mmm, Slayer, that's playing rough." Spike's mouth opens, baring his teeth slightly as he resists snapping up her bottom lip. His resistance doesn't last. He grabs ahold of her full lower lip with his teeth, pulling it into his mouth. The movement dissolves into a kiss that leaves Buffy breathless and Spike more horny than ever. As his hands grasp her hips to pull her closer, Buffy pushes her hands against his chest.   
  
"No, no. Food, Spike. Food." This time it is Spike's turn to pout. She sighs at his adorable expression and wonders if he will ever stop surprising her. To learn so much about someone so quickly; it's emotional overload. Here he is, looking the part of a cute little boy with some very adult thoughts.  
  
When she manages to not cave in the next minute, Spike sighs, defeated but willingly so. "What do you want to eat, Buffy?"  
  
Buffy's eyes widen slightly. He's offering to get it for her? This is new. "Um, I was having spaghetti when Xan – when I was interrupted. It's on the counter?" Her voice is questioning, still not quite believing what he seems to be offering. She loves this Spike, too. She loves the sexy Spike, the naughty one, the tender one, the loving one and now, this considerate one?   
  
"Alright, be back in a minute. Don't move." Spike leans into a kiss, and she can't help but think of him as the perfect boyfriend. Boyfriend! Spike! Two words she never said together before. Her smile is seductive and Spike hesitates. She pushes it away for a pretend frown. She points wordlessly at the door. Spike shakes his head, wondering how he got so whipped so fast.   
  
Buffy nibbles her lip as his bare bottom walks away from her. She starts to point out that maybe he should put something on, but thinks better of it. The view is really too nice. When he leaves the room, she flings herself back into the covers, stretching and wiggling in the rumpled sheets while she waits. Sjpike's steps are quick down the steps. Right as she hears him reach the bottom, the phone rings. Buffy's eyes close with a sigh. "Buffy just can't be left alone, huh? How often do I take a break from responsibility. Um, never?" Without opening her eyes, Buffy slaps over to her bedside table, grabbing the phone quickly. "Hello?"  
  
"Hi, Buffy." Buffy bites back another sigh. That Willow has the best timing. Well, she and Spike are still naked, but at least she didn't interrupt anything naughty this time.   
  
"Hey, Willow. Listen, I'm sorry I missed class again.. can I get the notes from you?"   
  
"Sure, you bet. Um, Buffy?"  
  
Willow sounds nervous and agreed to the notes things without even a scolding. "What is it, Will?"   
  
"Have you had any…um…visitors?" She can almost see Willow hold her breath on the other end of the phone.  
  
"Oh, you mean, Xander?"  
  
Her voice is a squeak on the other end. "Oh phooey. I'm sorry, Buffy! I told him you were sick and I told him not to go to your house and I told him…and oh, he didn't listen to me one teeny tiny bit!"   
  
"It's okay. I…lied to him."  
  
Willow breathes out a sigh of relief. "Oh, good. Whew. My mind – load off!"   
  
"But I'm going to tell him about Spike the next time I see him."  
  
"Oh god! But that's tonight!" Willow's voice pitches towards terror.   
  
"It is? Why?"  
  
"I was planning to call and tell you. Scooby meeting at Giles' tonight. All he would say is 'oh, dear' and rub his eyes when I saw him. Guess something's rotten in Sunnydale. Again."   
  
Buffy falls silent. There it is, the golden opportunity to tell everyone about Spike. And she would rather fight a gang of vampires with one hand tied behind her back. Doesn't matter. Spike deserves the truth. Her voice is quiet, certain.  
  
"Then I can tell Xander…and everyone…then. See you tonight, Will." Sounds of protest and panic come through the phone as Buffy hangs it up with a click. She pauses with her hand on the handset for a moment and then takes the phone off the hook. Otherwise, she is sure it will ring in a few seconds with more protestations. Lying back and staring at the ceiling, Buffy considers her decision. Now she just has to figure exactly how to explain it. Does she mention the spell or leave it out? Of course, Willow knows about the spell, so she could…   
  
"May I interrupt, luv?" His voice comes from nearer than she expected and is strangely muffled. Her eyes slide to the door to find her completely naked lover holding a steaming hot plate of spaghetti. And a rose. In his teeth. The scene is pure comedy and Buffy feels the giggles rise up from her throat like bubbles before exploding into peals of laughter.   
  
In between bursts of giggles, Buffy manages to stumble over to the bedroom door. Spike grins at her around the flower, loving the way her hazel eyes dance when she is laughing. He meets her eyes with his, trying to tell her that they are in this together. Her worries are his worries. And he knows she was worried when he came to the door the first time and she was on the phone. Hence the snatching of a rose from the flower arrangement in the hallway. And it worked. The concern has vanished from her eyes, replaced by this playful, sexy Buffy he adores. More than he thought possible. Buffy reaches up to take the flower out of his mouth and tosses it over her shoulder.   
  
Buffy's voice is higher than normal, dripping with innocence. "Oh, thank goodness you came back, Spike. I'm very..." She bites his lip. "Very…" Nibbles his ear. "Very…" Nips against his neck before rising up to meet his eyes again. "Hungry." The last word rolls off her tongue right as she tackles him against the door, her mouth covering his in a furious kiss as Spike struggles not to drop her lunch all over the carpet.   
  
*****  
  
  
  
"Tonight it is. I'll use the arrows just before the meeting."   
  
"Oh goody!" Psyche claps in excitement and then shakes her head at the scene unfolding below. "They are unbelievable! Makes me feel rather…frisky." She grins and raises an eyebrow at Cupid.   
  
"Well, we do have some time, my sweet. Shall we?" Holding out his hand, Cupid takes ahold of Psyche and pulls her against him, his lips finding hers in an instant.  
  
************************  
  
Author's Note: A little faster this time! I love the feedback, so let's hear it! Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! –Tiana :) 


	32. Chapter 32: The Midas Touch

* * * * * Chapter 32: The Midas Touch * * * * *  
  
"Mmmmmm, delicious." Buffy smiles in pleasure as she licks her lips.  
  
"I think I'm coming over a bit queasy here, luv. You always eat like this?"  
  
"Only when I'm half-starved, so shut up."  
  
"Ooooh, rough talk." Spike sits back against the headboard as Buffy swirls her fork in the half-eaten spaghetti.  
  
"I mean it. I'm hungry and nothing you are going to do or say is going to stop me. Again." She smiles a bit as she remembers the distraction caused by Spike's naked arrival with her lunch. Spaghetti's a bit lukewarm now, but still edible.  
  
"Shouldn't challenge me, Buffy." She notes the way his voice drops on her name. The way he seems to caress the sounds as they fall from his lips. No one has ever made her name give her goosebumps they way he can. She feels his weight shift behind her and braces herself, trying desperately not to spin around and tackle him again. She really was quite hungry but he is already dividing her attention. And she did already eat half of it.  
  
Buffy hisses when his cool lips press into the top of her bare shoulder. It's like he knows the exact spot on her body that will set the rest of her alight. She struggles to lift the bite of spaghetti to her mouth, but halfway there, she feels that soft soft mouth on the side of her neck. Her hand begins to shake in mid-air.  
  
"Spike." Her protest ends up sounding more like a moan and she can feel him smile against her bare skin. And then, the lightest nibble of his teeth working up her neck, slowly, so slow he seems to be dragging time to a standstill. The fork clinks as she lets it drop back to the plate. She can feel her blood begin to rush, flooding her senses with its pounding, insistent need. Hands still shaking, she manages to lay the plate on her bedside table. Spike moves around, kissing against the nape of her neck, her hair brushing over his head in golden waves. He continues his inexorable path, reaching the other side of her neck. Buffy lets her head drop back, resting it against his shoulder as he continues to work up the side of her neck. Her hands drop, sliding back and around to reach for him. She finds his thighs and realizes Spike is kneeling behind her, only inches away, though the only thing touching her until that moment was his mouth. His mouth. The one that can drop a smartass comment in the same breath with a sweet endearment. Can bite into her or lightly brush against her skin. Can turn her to steel or melt her in his arms. And oh, the smirks, the smiles, the little innuendoes that fall from those lips. Buffy smiles, knowing he can't see her. He makes her want to write an ode to his mouth. And she doesn't have a clue how to write poetry. Anyway, always been more of an action girl. Better to just show him how much she likes it. And the rest of him. Her fingers dig into his skin, the tight muscles of his thighs clenching underneath them. If he had any doubt, his effect on her is becoming quite obvious.  
  
Spike can smell her arousal growing, can feel her pulse accelerate under his lips. Wishes he could see inside that gorgeous head of hers sometimes. If her scent is any indication, the thoughts that course through her could likely harden him like quick set cement. Though actually, she manages to do that anyway. He smiles ruefully. Slayer has him wrapped around her beautiful little finger. And somehow, he doesn't really mind if she knows it. At the feeling of her fingers scratching into his flesh, Spike realizes he has won this round of their little Sex Olympics. Thank god he gets more than a medal for making her forget about her lunch. He reaches up, gathers her hair in his hands, lifting it to bare her neck. The neck it is. Spike has realized he can separately worship every part of her body, one after the other, and drive her straight out of her mind. But in a good way. Most gits don't even realize that women's erogenous zones are wide-reaching.  
  
With her hair held up, Spike leans in to press his lips against the very base of her neck and then draws a line up to her hairline and back again. Buffy moans quietly, the grip on his thighs not loosening. While the skin is still moist, Spike blows a cool stream of air up her neck, electrifying her. The moan is now a groan and it is decidedly not quiet. Spike feels himself go rock hard at the sweet lift of her voice. She drops her head forward, clearly giving an invitation to continue. Spike leans forward, his mouth a fraction of an inch from her ear.  
  
"Like that, luv?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm." Buffy doesn't trust her voice. He completely rattled her senses and his proximity is starting to shut down her higher functions. Soon it will be simply: Sex good, Spike pretty.  
  
"I thought that you might." Pulling away from her slightly, Spike drags the very tip of his tongue up her spine, slow, slow, slowly reaching the same spot on her neck. Again, he follows with a stream of air through pursed lips. Buffy's skin erupts in goosebumps, her nipples go hard as a shiver runs through her. As much as she likes what he is doing, she's having a hard time not touching him more. Feeling the hard lines of his body against hers, pressing into his flesh. He is determined to keep the touch light and she is willing to let him continue - for the moment. Buffy knows he won't last forever.  
  
Spike releases Buffy's hair, letting it slowly drop and cover her shoulders again. Like spun light, her hair is the way he imagines sunlight in all its glory. Shimmering, golden but thankfully, fully non-fatal. His hands drop to her shoulders and then move down her arms, just skimming the skin, barely touching.  
  
Buffy holds her breath as his gentle hands continue to cover her body, kissing against her skin. They wrap around, grazing her breasts. She leans her head to the side, exposing her neck to Spike again. She knows her neck is a weak spot for him - and for her. The pulsing blood there, symbol of life and lust and visceral desire for Spike. His hands do not hesitate as they lightly tweak her nipples and his mouth moves down onto her neck. He covers the flesh as if he will bite it, but does not. He plants open- mouth kisses up to her ear before gently sucking the earlobe between his teeth. Buffy inhales sharply. His slow, sensuous movements are lighting her fuse and she is not sure how long it is. Feeling short at the moment.  
  
Spike's hands meet under her breasts and turn downward, skating over her navel and lower. Buffy contracts her stomach, clenches her inner walls in anticipation of his touch. The fingers dance over her most sensitive areas, skimming her inner thighs, gently spreading her legs further apart. Like a rag doll, she complies, wondering when he hypnotized her with those lips and these hands. Both hands rest between her legs, exerting a firm pressure that sends a sudden surge of warmth straight up her body. Those long, nimble index fingers dip lower, entering her tight channel together. Finally, she can't take the non-contact any longer. His penetration causes Buffy to throw her body back against his, her arms go up over her head to run into his hair, twisting those white blond locks around suddenly agitated fingers. Spike moves his head around to the other side of her neck and starts to nibble on her ear as his fingers move in and out with slow, deliberate thrusts. Buffy moves with him, rubbing her back against his chest. Spike attempts to maintain the air of being in charge of this endeavor, but the little minx is driving him mad with her wriggling and moaning. And now that hot little body is slammed up against his, blanketing him in her scent, all sex and sunshine. He better escalate matters in a hurry. With that thought, both of Spike's thumbs drive into Buffy's clit on the next thrust and on every one thereafter, faster and harder, more insistent.  
  
"Oh. My. God." Buffy is panting out every word, breaths short and fast as Spike pushes her closer and closer to climax. She feels his erection digging into her back and decides she wants to come around him, looking into those bottomless eyes of his. "Sp - Spike. Wait. Don't." A word on every thrust, before it is too late. She whips her hands down and covers his, holding him still even as the warning signals of her orgasm begin to build.  
  
Spike frowns. "Buffy? What's wrong, luv?"  
  
Without a word, Buffy rotates in his arms, startling him into letting go of her. She finds him and guides him right to her entrance. Her green eyes spark like glass in the sun. "Absolutely nothing." Pinning Spike under her, Buffy wiggles her hips, teasing for just a few seconds before driving down onto him in one smooth movement. Slick and ready for him, it is effortless and filling and she sighs. Spike, recovering quickly, takes Buffy's head in both hands and pulls her mouth down to his for a furious kiss, tangled tongues and bruising lips. That's his girl. She straddles his hips and wastes no time, pounding down onto him. Her body quivers on every thrust, her already sensitive skin screaming from the continued stimulation. Spike grins up at her before sliding his hand back between her legs, matching her thrusts with his fingers. Buffy screams aloud at the first press of his hands, feeling like she will combust if he touches her again. Which of course, he does. After his long bout with self- control, Spike is close to exploding himself. Buffy's body flailing above his, blond hair whipping back and forth, breasts rising and falling above him, it's sensory overload. Within seconds, Buffy cries out, coming with an intensity that makes her nearly faint, shockwaves shooting outwards with bone-rattling strength. Her muscles clenching pull Spike right through with her and he groans as he comes, stars bursting in front of his eyes. Both of them collapse, their muscles continuing to twitch, tighten and finally loosen.  
  
A few minutes pass, nothing but heavy breathing filling the air. Spike's hand softly smoothes Buffy's hair, as her fingers lightly circle on his chest. Eyes meeting, they smile.  
  
"You're amazing, pet." Spike's voice is low, lacking the rough edges it often takes.  
  
"Not too bad yourself, Spike." Buffy is content, perfectly cat curled up in the sun cleaning her paws content. If only she could just stay here always, never leaving the house to. "Oh crap!"  
  
"Well, that was a quick change of heart, Buffy." Spike's tone is bemused.  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
"Don't know. Can't say I care, luv. Why?"  
  
"Scooby meeting."  
  
"Oh, right. It's not even dark yet, Buffy. There's time." He feels her body relax again under his arms. She sighs.  
  
"Whew."  
  
"Since when are you worried about being late to one of your meetings, anyway?"  
  
It's time to tell him. "Spike. You're coming, too."  
  
"To the meeting? Why? Never invited, anyway." Spike realizes this is what her quiet phone conversation was about. The one that made that cute little line appear between her eyes as she worried.  
  
Buffy looks at Spike's face, her eyes serious. "You are tonight." She reaches up, putting her palm against his cheek. "You're coming with me."  
  
Spike feels his heart want to pound. He strives for nonchalance, but fails. His voice cracks. "I am?"  
  
"I'm telling them. Remember, we're in this thing together." Buffy chews on her bottom lip, watching a series of emotions scurry across Spike's face. Normally, he wouldn't give a rat's ass what the Scoobies think of him, but he knows it matters to her and that is enough.  
  
His blue eyes light up. "Speaking of being in things together.shouldn't we get a shower first?" The smirk forces her to match him with one of her own.  
  
"Excellent plan, let's get with the soapy goodness." One more time, Buffy stuffs her worry behind her newfound love for Spike. How bad could it really be, anyway?  
  
With a squeak as Spike pinches her bare bottom, Buffy leaps up and darts toward the door, the blond vampire close on her heels.  
  
* * * * *  
  
"Well, it looks like it is time, my sweet." With a flourish, Cupid gathers up the arrows he needs. He waves his hand in a large circle, bringing more of Sunnydale into view around the two lovers. With a small movement of his finger, he marks all of his targets for these specially treated arrows. In turn, he lights Giles, Xander and Anya with a golden glow. He glances over at Psyche. "What do you think, shall we touch the red-haired witch as well? She is the only one that already knows about them."  
  
Psyche considers this but eventually nods. "I think you had better. She's very clever and while she means well, she could throw off the whole thing if she isn't equally affected, don't you think?"  
  
"My sweet, your brain is as stunning as the rest of you. Of course you are most correct." With a gesture, he touches Willow as well.  
  
Psyche grins in anticipation as Cupid loads the first arrow. One after the other, he lets the golden arrows fly. He does not invest the same speed and urgency in their flight as the lust arrows and each person in turn notices a strange twinge, but soon forgets. A gentle warmth fills them, seemingly from the sun but really generated internally by the combined effect of Cupid's light touch and his sister's special ingredients.  
  
* * * * *  
  
Two hours later, the freshly scrubbed Slayer and vampire stand on Giles' front stoop. Nervous as hell. Spike keeps fidgeting with his coat, considering a smoke, but thinking better of it. Buffy's mouth is completely dry, words swirling in her head. 'So, after we had sex about five or six times, I realized I might have feelings for him.' No, that won't do. 'So, Spike can do this thing with his tongue.' Agh. No. Buffy is snapped out of her confusion by the feel of Spike's fingers slowly lacing in hers. She looks up to find him watching her, his fidgeting stopping. His eyes are still and blue.  
  
"It's going to be fine, luv." He leans down, lips lightly brushing hers before grazing her ear. "I love you." She melts, threatening to puddle right here on the doormat. Her hand clasps his, clutching him tighter than strictly necessary.  
  
"And I love you." She turns to face the door, heart pounding. "Shall we?"  
  
Spike reaches for the doorknob, opening the door in front of them. He gestures for her to continue in. "After you, pet." 


	33. Chapter 33: The Gang's All Here

* * * * * Chapter 33: The Gang's All Here * * * * *  
  
"And I'm telling you, Ms. Wicca, that I-Dream-of-Jeannie could totally take out that witch from Bewitched. Come on! She lived in a bottle and - oh hi, Buffy!" Xander pauses in his diatribe long enough to acknowledge the entrance of the blond pair. Willow rolls her eyes at Xander and waves at Buffy before turning back to him. Xander opens his mouth to continue but then freezes before slowly turning back to the door. Willow does the same, her eyes completely bugged out.  
  
Xander finds his voice again, "Spike? Buffy.why is Spike here? And.and.merciful Zeus, holding your hand?! GILES!"  
  
"Oh what is it, Xander? I am not going to discuss American television with you for one more bloody.oh, it's you, Buffy. Come in. And.who?" Giles finishes rubbing his glasses with a dishtowel before sliding them back on his face. "Spike? What on earth?"  
  
Willow makes a strangled squeak as her eyes dart from Buffy and Spike to the two gaping men, waiting for the eminent explosion.  
  
Buffy swallows, meeting Spike's eyes for a second before moving further into the room. He squeezes her hand before following her in, shutting the door behind them. No sense in disturbing the neighbors. Spike's eyes quickly scan the room, checking for weapons handy to the two other men. No way the Whelp and the Watcher are going to take this news very well.  
  
The two step through the room before settling down on the couch next to Willow. Xander sits across from them in a chair as Giles walks around to face them all.  
  
Giles speaks first. "Buffy, do you plan on explaining this..um.." He gestures at their tightly clenched hands. ".behavior? Did Willow do another spell, perhaps?" His expression is hopeful, the alternative unthinkable.  
  
Before Buffy can say a word, Willow sits up straight, her face suddenly indignant in light of this accusation. "I did not, Giles! I told you it wouldn't happen again and so it has not! THIS is not my will!" She crosses her arms on her chest before slumping back on the couch, glaring at Giles.  
  
"Well, something's obviously kerplooie, Will ! Look at 'em with the hand- holding and stroking. I do see that thumb moving, Dead Boy!" Spike's thumb, lightly grazing Buffy's hand, continues as the vampire stares at Xander.  
  
"Alexander Harris, don't you accuse me of.well, so it happened before, but it didn't happen this time."  
  
".well, Willow, it certainly appears."  
  
".they would never."  
  
As the torrent of words swirls above their heads, Buffy and Spike gaze at each other, wry smiles on their faces. Leaning forward in slow motion, Buffy gently presses her lips to his before standing up. She speaks, but they don't hear her as the finger pointing and wild gesturing continues. She tries again, but still nothing in the clamor.  
  
Buffy speaks louder, forcefully. "I love him."  
  
Four heads whip in her direction, as even Spike is surprised she started this way. He figured she would try and explain something about the arrows and Cupid, soften the blow by using the magic as a crutch. But no, his girl is not afraid. He smiles up at her. He is, of course, the only one smiling in the room.  
  
"You what?" Xander's eyes grow wider as Buffy's words sink in.  
  
"I love him, Xander. Giles. Willow." She decides not to let on that Willow already knew, figuring that will just trigger another outburst. "I do. I know it's kind of out of the blue, but Spike and I are in love. I care about him and I want you all to accept that, to accept him. He is different than we all thought and he is true and loving and he makes me very, very happy." She grins down at the blond vampire before retaking her seat next to him on the couch. His hand squeezes her thigh before he places a kiss on her cheek.  
  
"Buffy is telling the truth. I love her more than I thought possible. Promise not to try and kill you lot any more. Might even help you." Spike smirks as Buffy playfully slaps his arm. They both look at the group, all of whom are not speaking, only staring.  
  
***  
  
Psyche clutches Cupid's hand as they watch the scene unfold. "This is it, sweetheart! This is the moment for the arrows to take effect! Their love is proclaimed!"  
  
Cupid grins. "And so it is. I was right, it is true, this love. True and pure. Now, let's see those arrows work."  
  
***  
  
Xander shakes his head. A strange warmth is filling him, fogging his mind. Buffy loves Spike? What the.that's just.it can't.well, Spike is quite the attractive man, all sleek and catlike. And strong. Buffy likes 'em strong and pulseless. Look at Riley. Xander blinks, these thoughts parading unbidden through his head. But making more and more sense with every passing second. He shakes his head again. Something seems amiss. A few minutes ago, didn't he hate Spike? He looks at the blond vampire, but can't muster up that hate. He actually kinda likes the guy. In a very manly, clothed way, of course. And Buffy looks happy. That's nice to see. Maybe this is.a good thing? Xander smiles. Yes, yes it's a good thing. His doubts fall away with his decision, the fog rolling in thick and convincing.  
  
Meanwhile, Giles and Willow experience similar struggles as their thoughts turn from suspicion, dislike and disapproval to the exact opposite. A funny tickle runs through their bodies, tingling and warm. The love in the room makes them feel so very relaxed, so very open to suggestion. Both look at each other and then at Xander. With a nod, they smile at Buffy and Spike, who are appropriately and completely freaked out by this reaction.  
  
Buffy's eyes dart at Spike, full of fear. Everyone is so quiet. No yelling. And now.smiling? It must be a trick. She considers how quickly she could get herself and Spike out the door, preferably with him not being a pile of dust.  
  
Then, Xander speaks. "Well, you crazy kids, that's great news! Giles, you got anything stronger than tea in this place? We should drink a toast!" Giles nods and hops up, heading for the kitchen.  
  
"Yes, of course. I've got some champagne left over from New Year's." His voice fades as he leans down to look in the refrigerator.  
  
Even Spike is on edge now. Something is seriously on the wrong side of normal. Buffy can't contain herself one more second.  
  
"What the hell are you talking about, Xander? You approve of our relationship?!?" She leans forward, eyes wide. Xander grins and pats Buffy lightly on the knee.  
  
"Well, yes Buffy. I've always liked Spike. You two are perfect for each other." He gives Spike a playful punch in the shoulder as Spike just stares blankly at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
"Always liked Spike? You HATE Spike!" Buffy stands up, her voice rising. Xander stands up too, looking concerned by Buffy's outburst.  
  
"Hate Spike? Why do you say that Buffy? Okay, true, I don't think." He pauses, looking briefly confused. "I don't think we've always been close, but that's in the past now, Buffster. Before you two were the happy couple. Sure, it's sudden, you little minx.hey, wait a minute! Was he the guy at your house?" His eyes widen a bit, eyebrows waggling suggestively. "Spike, you old dog!" Spike is still struck rather dumb by the entire experience. The Whelp likes him now? It's very unsettling.  
  
"Uh, yeah, that was him. But Xan, seriously! I don't get it. How the hell can you like Spike?" Buffy's voice is strident and higher than normal.  
  
"Hey!" Spike protests at Buffy's choice of words. "I can be a likeable bloke, Slayer. When I want to be." He trails off, choosing to stay seated on the couch and let the Slayer duke it out with her friends.  
  
Xander shrugs at the wound-up Slayer in front of him. "Don't know, Buffy. It just kinda.feels right. What you said made perfect sense. Why shouldn't I support you wacky kids?" He grins at her.  
  
Buffy continues on without comment, turning to Giles with a look of exasperation. "And what about you, Giles?"  
  
Giles returns from the kitchen with an open bottle of champagne and hands full of glasses. "What's that, Buffy? Oh yes, you know, Spike's a good lad. Well, he can be. Just had a rough past - something I can certainly relate to. I'll admit, I had my doubts about him. Very recently, in fact." Giles brow furrows, as if he is trying to remember something. "But I.I know you are right. You love him, he loves you. Let's have a toast!"  
  
Buffy rolls her eyes and flops on the couch. She's not sure why, but she would have been more comfortable with her friends going ballistic rather than this. It's just too odd. She turns to Willow as Giles and Xander pour champagne. "Surely you still disapprove, Will." Her eyes are almost pleading, hoping for some normalcy.  
  
"Oh no, Buffy! I think this is great. I don't know why I had a problem before.I can't even really remember being against it. This just all makes such perfect sense. I'm so happy for you both!" Willow leans over, hugging Buffy and Spike in one clumsy maneuver.  
  
After she releases them and turns to Giles and Xander, Buffy and Spike turn to stare at each other. Spike leans over to whisper in her ear. "Buffy, luv, maybe you should stop arguing with them. I know it's bloody strange, but didn't you want them to be happy for us?"  
  
Buffy sighs. "Well, of course. It's just.they didn't even put up a fight. Don't they know you're all dangerous.or were.and a vampire! See, no one even mentioned that you are a vampire! I." Spike leans closer, cutting off Buffy's frantic words with a kiss. She feels the anxiety melt a bit. He presses harder into the kiss, his tongue brushing her bottom lip. Forgetting their location, Buffy opens her mouth and their kiss quickly deepens, tongues tangling and hands roaming.  
  
"Whoa!" Xander's exclamation causes the two blonds to jump away from each other guiltily. "You two might want to locate a room, eh?" He winks conspiratorially at Spike, who just blinks. As much as he knows Buffy wants her friends to approve, this is really just a bit too weird. So weird that he actually brings up work to change the subject.  
  
Spike clears his throat, looks around the room. Buffy blushes and straightens her blouse, clearly at a loss for what to do next. She expected to be in the throes of a huge yelling match right now, not drinking to their health and future together.  
  
"So, Rupert, mate. You called us here for a reason, right? Something evil afoot?"  
  
Giles pauses in his pouring of the champagne, brow furrowed. "Why yes, Spike, you're right! I was...distracted." He sets the bottle down and turns to the whole group. "I've called you all here because I've turned up something unsettling in a shipment of books I bought from a dealer in Greece. Very strange and I don't quite understand it all, but it seems to be a prophecy or prediction and it seems to be happening soon.let me find the passage." Giles wanders back to his desk to flip through a few old books stacked there, muttering to himself.  
  
Xander passes around the champagne and whispers, "Let's have a quick toast before he finds what he's looking for. After that, one way ticket to Dullsville. To Buffy and Spike, the best new couple in Sunnydale. And of course, welcome to the gang, Spike." With a wide grin, Xander raises his glass. Willow clinks it, her face equally alight. With a still concerned look on her face, Buffy glances over to Spike. His reaction to Xander's words is unreadable, but she could swear he seems.pleased? This night could not get any weirder. They finish clinking glasses and take their first sips when Giles exclaims, startling everyone.  
  
"There we have it! Strangest thing.something about a pairing of dark and light springing from the arrow of an immortal. don't know what that refers to." Buffy and Willow gape at each other. "And then, it goes on for awhile and this is the part I noticed.it mentions the Slayer, though not in so many words, and it seems to be saying that Spike. I mean, I didn't know it was Spike until now, but it seems that a vampire, Spike I believe, is key to this prediction. It seems he will.well, he may just save us all." Giles puts his glasses down, looking over at Spike as every set of eyes settles on him. He stops in mid-swallow and looks at Buffy, completely surprised.  
  
Buffy was wrong. This night just got weirder.  
  
****************** Author's Note: I know, another delay, but I'm doing the best I can! Reviews are very appreciated and always welcome so thanks for the ongoing support! The arrows are more fully explained in the next chapter, so hang in there. -Tiana ( 


	34. Chapter 34: A Prophecy

*****  
  
Chapter 34: A Prophecy  
  
*****  
  
Cupid continues explaining to Psyche, pride brimming. "See, my dear, it worked exactly as I described. Suadela doesn't advertise it, but she is actually the goddess of persuasion. She has only chosen to use that ability in the ways of love and seduction. Our mother is Aphrodite, what can you expect, right? Suadela prefers direct contact, but was willing to touch my arrows with her power when I explained that I merely wanted to make a few humans a bit more…malleable. It's a temporary effect, but should give our two lovers enough time to convince the group that their love is real. The arrows have left all of them happy with the idea of love – that's my part – and extremely willing to believe whatever they are told – that's the work of sweet Suadela." Cupid's self-satisfied grin slowly fades as he realizes his long speech is being ignored. Psyche is distracted, missing her lover's words as she gazes down into the pool, her delicate brow furrowed in concentration.   
  
"Cupid, darling – did you hear that?"   
  
"I was going to ask you the same thing, sweetheart. What is going on down there? Did the arrows stop working?" Cupid leans over to share in her view, his face showing sudden concern. All he sees is the entire group sitting and staring at Spike in some kind of stunned amazement. He darts his eyes to Psyche. "What did he do? What happened?"   
  
"Well, the other man…Giles, I think they called him, described a prediction or maybe a prophecy. Not uncommon, as we know. But…" Psyche is thinking so hard it appears to be causing her physical discomfort. "…it involved us. And what we did with the Vampire and the Slayer. It said he would save the world." She turns to Cupid, her deep brown eyes worried. "I don't understand."  
  
Cupid pauses, considering. He paces around the pool, watching the Scoobies. Finally, he stops, his handsome features drawn in thought. "The Fates. It's the only explanation. They are the only ones with that kind of power." He takes a few more steps. "Wait, they are talking again. I'll explain in a second, my sweet." Cupid takes Psyche's hand and settles on the stone edge of the pool to watch. She reluctantly turns from her lover to the scene below.  
  
*****  
  
"Um, ex-squeeze me? Now, don't get me wrong, I love Spike as much as the next guy…apparently. But saving us all? Isn't that more Buffy's gig? And by all…you mean?"  
  
Xander rips his eyes away from the blond vampire to look at Giles.   
  
Giles clears his throat as all eyes turn to him. "Well, Xander, I do realize it is a bit odd, but yes, the passage is clearly focused on a vampire. And this vampire appears to be Spike. I thought it was Angel when I began the passage today, but by the time I finished translating, I saw it could not be. Thankfully, with tonight's wonderful news, I can say it is most certainly not him. It is our very own Spike." Giles' smile is nearly paternal as he looks at Spike, who squirms a bit. Being insulted is a bit more comfortable in this group. This lovefest is making him twitchy. Buffy squeezes his hand in reassurance, though she is equally thrown by the behavior of her friends.   
  
He pauses, maybe for dramatic effect. "And by us all, I mean the world, Xander. Spike will preserve the future, the fate of humanity with his actions." Spike's eyes nearly bug out of his head and Buffy squeezes his hand a bit too tight, causing him to yelp in pain.  
  
"Bloody hell! Save the world?! Rupert, what in blazes are you on about?" Spike starts to stand up, but Buffy holds him on the couch, lightly patting his arm in an attempt to calm him.   
  
"It's alright, Spike. Happens all the time to me. Giles is always telling me I have to 'save the world.' Usually he's exaggerating. I'm sure it's not…so…bad." Buffy's words fade as she observes the look on Giles' face. Definitely his 'apocalyptic' expression, which she knows a little too well. She gulps. "Giles? Um, what does he have to do? And why are you sure it's Spike, anyway?" A tiny stab of fear digs into Buffy's heart. Really saving the world tends to be dangerous business.   
  
"Fine, fine. Let me read it. Not like I have any experience interpreting ancient texts, now is it?" Giles' snarky comeback is lost on the Scooby gang and he rolls his eyes. "Here we go. Pardon me if I don't read the whole thing. They are rather wordy in these texts. The first bit goes on about the day these things will happen. I've done my calculations over and over and it all points to…tomorrow night."  
  
Willow sits up straight. "Tomorrow night? But that's a mere 24 hours to work up a good solid panic." She goes a shade paler than normal. She believes in Spike's ability to love Buffy and make her happy, but save the world? Is he really up for that?   
  
"Yes, tomorrow night and Willow, there's no need to panic. We will be prepared, I'm sure of it. And Spike…he'll do fine." Giles puts his hand on Spike's shoulder in a very father-son gesture, gently squeezing. It's now Spike's turn to go a few shades paler than normal. Buffy sees that Spike is strangely still, so she pops up.   
  
"Now, Giles. About the rest of that darn prophecy. What does Spike have to do? Something lacking in the danger department, right? Save a kitten up a tree, kick a tiny demon's ass?" Buffy strains for calm, as she feels the fear bubbling inside her as well. Giles is being way too vague and that has never been a good thing before.   
  
"Alright alright. I'll just read it. Get you lot to stop and just bloody listen." Spike nods and smirks a bit. More like it to see Giles acting like something other than a nancy boy. "Okay…here it is. The part about the vampire: 'One who does not breathe, yet walks the earth. Feeding on life, but never alive.' Vampire, see? 'His undead heart belongs to the woman warrior, the one who is chosen to protect humanity.' See, that's you, Buffy. And now that I know you and Spike are in love, it makes more sense. And there's more. Details about this sacred location outside town. The stone circle on the hill at the edge of Breaker's Woods? As usual, these things are not exactly written like instruction manuals. Finally, it says, 'Fate will bring him to this night in the light of a half moon. His battle of will is his alone. His triumph will bring humanity to light, his failure will bring only darkness. His existence is the price.' Giles pauses, looks around the silent room and clears his throat. "Well, they do tend to be a bit overdramatic, those Greeks…and it is a particularly difficult dialect...um, and my translation is a bit rough…might not be so…I mean, it might not be literal. The price." Giles lets his words fade out as he tries a smile. "Oh, and it does say that the 'circle of the chosen one' is near but cannot interfere, so I think that would be all of us. Doesn't say what we do, though, so…I think we just go with him…" Giles finally just stops talking. The rest of the group remains quiet.   
  
Looking around at the nervous faces, Buffy stands up. "Giles, thanks for scaring the bejeezus out of us all. I'm taking Spike home now."   
  
"Honestly, Buffy, I'm just reading what I found. You know there is often a sacrifice..." Buffy turns a stony glare on the Watcher, making him fall silent.  
  
"Sacrifice, shmacrifice. You're not talking about a sacrifice, you're talking about my boyfriend and…well, actually no, you're not. 'Cause we're done talking. I'm the Chosen One. I take the risks, not him. We're leaving. Spike?" Buffy pulls at Spike's hand, but he doesn't move. She realizes, as does the rest of the group, that Spike has been remarkably quiet throughout these proceedings, considering his rather primary role. His expression is unreadable as he stands to join Buffy. Holding Buffy's hand tightly, he turns to Giles.  
  
"Rupert, what time should I be there?" He meets Giles' gaze, unwavering. Buffy's mouth drops and is soon followed by the rest of the room.   
  
"Spike, no." Her voice is soft, scared. The look on his face is entirely too certain, too set. Her blood turns to ice water.   
  
Spike turns, his voice dropping, gentle as he takes both her hands. "Slayer, love, it's the…right thing to do." The words stumble out of his mouth, but it doesn't make his decision any less final.   
  
Buffy is speechless. She wants to yell at him that he doesn't do the 'right thing'. He's Spike, of the amoral outlook and the smartass remark suited for every do-gooder request. But in just a few days, she has learned he is more than he appears. Before he fell in love with her, he would have told them to sod off, she's sure of it. Now, it feels like her fault that he might die. Buffy's eyes glisten as she searches his expression. He's not kidding. He really means to do the right thing.   
  
Dammit.  
  
Buffy's shoulders drop in defeat. She can't even fall for a soulless vampire without him getting sucked into this world of hers. A world that cycles between apocalypse and near-apocalypse with depressing regularity. She turns to Giles, meets his eyes and sees them soften. "What time should we be there, Giles?"  
  
His smile is fleeting, but she catches it. And sort of wants to shove it down his throat, in a loving Slayer-Watcher kind of way. Yes, yes Buffy is going to do what she is supposed to…what else is new?  
  
"Moonrise. Um…that's 9:20 tomorrow."  
  
"Gee. Precise much? We'll be there at 9." Buffy purses her lips, unwilling to dull her tongue right now. If Giles wasn't so into his books, she could be snuggling with Spike tomorrow at 9 instead of developing a big old case of dread. She sighs, knowing that the things Giles reads about tend to happen anyway and really, the warning is a good thing. Not that it feels that way.  
  
Spike turns to the door with a startled Buffy in tow. "Right then. See you tomorrow." Spike gives a brief salute to the group and yanks the door open.  
  
"But…but Spike. Don't you want to…prepare...and discuss strategies?" Giles stammers and Willow prepares to chime in as well. Xander looks startled as he looks between them all.   
  
Spike cuts them all off with a wave of his hand. "Not necessary. Here's mine. You lot read over your books, study them all night if you have to. Figure out there is nothing I can really do to avoid this thing and no weapon I can fight it with. And tell me all about it tomorrow. At 9. I'll be leaving now with the Slayer." And with that, he's gone. Buffy manages a wave before being pulled out the door into the darkness. He may have to be good now, but he doesn't have to be polite.   
  
They get halfway to the street before Buffy exerts her strength and screeches them to a halt. "Spike! Stop!"   
  
He does. When he doesn't say a word, Buffy turns his face toward her. "Are you sure? We don't even know what you are facing tomorrow."  
  
"Buffy, luv, you may have noticed that Rupert there was implying that I could do something to save humanity. Now, I like humanity as much as the next vamp, but that's not why I agreed."  
  
"Then, why?"   
  
"Has it escaped the Chosen One's notice that she is in fact, human? Do you expect me to stand by and let the love of my undead life suffer?" Spike's words are a caress to Buffy, but her fear is still a bitter taste. He leans closer, hands lifting gently into her hair. Their lips graze softly.  
  
"Am I late? I brought dip!" Anya appears next to the pair, smile open and curious, a container of french onion dip in hand. "How come you two are not inside pretending to listen to Giles?" She leans toward Buffy conspiratorially, "That's why I am often late, you know. I always tell Xander it's because of the dip." She grins, then looks at Spike. "Spike! What forces you here?"  
  
"Slayer. 'm in love with her." He grins at Buffy, who smacks his leather-clad arm.   
  
She mutters to herself, "Didn't force him, exactly…"   
  
"She does like the vampires. Good for you two. So, what else did I miss? Is it over?" Her eyes light up, hope springing eternal.   
  
"For us it is. Watcher said I might die tomorrow trying to save humanity. They can tell you the details."   
  
"Oh crap. It's not an Ascension, is it?" Anya looks put out.  
  
"Nope. Greek prophecy."   
  
"Figures. Alright, guess I better go in." Anya heads up the walk towards Giles' door, before stopping, as if she forgot something. "Oh, you can go back to kissing now. 'Night!" They watch her swing the door open and announce cheerily, "Am I late? I brought dip!"  
  
Buffy, having watched this conversation like a tennis match, finally loses it and begins to giggle. Spike glances at her, a little surprised. She laughs harder and harder, bending double. "She brought dip. Oh god, do you have any idea how many times she's brought that damn dip to Scooby meetings?"  
  
Spike chuckles. "Demon bird's got the right idea. Those meetings are bloody well weird. Remind me not to come next time you invite me."  
  
Buffy smiles up at him, laughter still bubbling. Anya's interlude has totally broken her anxiety for the moment. "That's it, blondie. I'm taking you home."  
  
"To have your wicked way with me?" Spike lifts his eyebrows, his tongue dancing out to trace his teeth.   
  
Buffy decides the worry isn't doing her any good right now. But something else surely will. "Wicked ways, Spike. Why stop at just one?" With that remark, she turns and walks away, hips swaying, hair swinging. Spike moans, looking up at the sky.   
  
"If the damn prophecy doesn't kill me, she surely will." The grin that stretches across his face is full of sinister promise and anticipation. "Can't wait to find out how."   
  
*********************   
  
Author's Note: Sorry for the extended wait! Reviews are always welcome. Thanks for reading! -Tiana 


	35. Chapter 35: Wicked Way

* * * * * Chapter 35: Wicked Way * * * * *  
  
Thoughts of prophecy and impending doom shoved way down deep for the moment, Buffy continues to sashay down the sidewalk, heading back towards her house. She can hear the light steps of her lover behind her, but resists the urge to turn and jump him. The anticipation is too delicious to spoil.  
  
Spike trails a few steps behind his blond beauty, eyes racing over her lithe form, hungry and horny. The fact that he may have just heard his death prophesied doesn't even distract him from the lines of his girl, with her curves in all the right places. He knows he should probably be concerned, but when she looks at him with those searing green eyes full of promise like she just did and twitches those rounded, soft lips in his direction, all the blood rushes from one head to the other and he just can't think. Can't worry. Maybe later. He bites his bottom lip and smirks slightly as he sees the Slayer is entering a shadowy part of the sidewalk. With his innate catlike grace, he steps off the sidewalk in mid- stride, dropping instantly into predator mode.  
  
Suddenly, Buffy realizes it is completely silent behind her. She strains with her Slayer senses and feels that familiar tingle of 'vampire' nearby. An extra thrill shoots up her spine as she recognizes Spike in particular. Buffy smiles, realizing she has always been able to pick him out of a crowd. Her ability to sense vampires has never been fully explained to her, but it is pretty much infallible. He is still near. But where?  
  
Determined not to let on that she's lost track of him, Buffy continues to stride confidently. She can play the game. She walks another half a block like this, and still she can't hear him anywhere. But the tingle remains. Dammit. He's somewhere behind her. Finally, Buffy can't resist a quick peek behind. Nothing. Just shadows from the trees overhanging the sidewalk. Not even a glimpse of shocking blond hair. She keeps walking, but must admit she has lost the upper hand here. If she ever had it. The game is most definitely of his making. She walks on, a bit nervous now. And incredibly turned on. Her heart begins to race a little and she feels the blood rushing to her face. She's been preyed on by a vampire before but never one that she wanted to catch her. Never one that she was mad in love with, that she wanted to tackle naked. This is a whole different kind of hunt.  
  
Her only warning is a quiet swish of leather and then his cool hand is on her mouth. His other arm wraps around her waist, pulling her off the sidewalk and into the dark shadow of a tree. She barely has time to take a breath and attempt to shriek in surprise before she feels a very firm and familiar body pressed against her back. All thoughts of struggle end as Buffy's pulse skyrockets. They are in complete darkness, but she knows that hard body, that distinctive scent of leather and smoke. Her whole body shudders when Spike's mouth grazes her ear. "Gotcha, luv." His voice is just above a whisper and she can more feel it than hear it against her skin. Spike loosens his grip enough to let her slide down his body and land on her feet. The friction is maddening. Buffy increases it by wriggling against him slightly, pretending to struggle in his grip. They both know she could probably escape, but they both also know she has no interest in doing so.  
  
Buffy's voice is light, full of a false fear. "Oh no, Mr. Bad Evil Vampire, what do you plan on doing with poor little defenseless me now that you've got me?" She punctuates her words with a solid wiggle of her rear against Spike, who bites a moan in half, trying to keep ahold of her warm body. His erection is suddenly harder than ever and straining against his jeans as he leans back against the tall oak tree, pulling her with him.  
  
Spike concentrates on the game they are playing, makes his voice gruff. "Ah- ah. Wouldn't be too smart of me to tell you what I have planned, now would it? That's the way the bad guys always lose. They talk too bloody much." His voice drops, turns to raw silk on the last sentence. His mouth lowers in the darkness, soft soft lips taking Buffy's earlobe between them. Letting his teeth nip at her before releasing Buffy's ear, Spike breathes, "Don't plan on talking much myself."  
  
Buffy moans, leans her body back into him. He feels the rough bark dig into his back through the duster as she presses harder. Spike's hands slide up her sides, dragging against the lightweight fabric of her top, pulling it loose from her skirt. At the moment his bare skin meets hers, a little gasp slips out of Buffy. The cool night air rushes up her torso and she feels her nipples tighten. She lets one arm slide down to Spike's thigh, fingertips digging into the lean muscle there. One of his hands continues its path upwards and inside her shirt, dancing over the tight skin until he finds her bra. The other arm holds her tight against him. His hand comes up and dances over her breasts, she presses back into him harder than ever, threatening to crush him against the solid tree trunk. Lucky for him he doesn't need to breathe. The tip of his index finger works around the already hard nipples in circles, teasing, flicking as Buffy's body twitches in response.  
  
Voices on the sidewalk ten feet away make them both freeze for a moment. Spike leans down to Buffy's ear, his whisper tickling her. "Very still, luv. Very quiet." Buffy complies as she recognizes the voices of Xander and Anya.  
  
"I don't think they bought your excuse, Xander. Sudden onset of dyslexia?" Anya's voice is full of amusement.  
  
"Got me out of researching, didn't it, Ahn?"  
  
Buffy stifles a giggle as she pictures the relief on Giles' and Willow's faces when the two of them left. There are not two other more unwilling researchers than Xan and Anya.  
  
"Yes and luckily, they also believed that I would need to guide you home in your newly backward reading state." She suddenly squealed. "Xander!"  
  
"What, sweetie? I figured you knew why I made the excuse."  
  
After the momentary pause, Spike's hand returns to roaming over Buffy's body as the conversation continues, slowly fading as they walk by, oblivious to the presence of the vampire and his Slayer.  
  
"Seeing Buffy and Spike together made you horny, too?"  
  
"Certainly gave me sweaty naked ideas. The sparks between those two were hot! I'm sure they were leaving to."  
  
"Yeah, and we should."  
  
"Yeah." Their steps grow fainter, but quicker as they make for home.  
  
Buffy throws her head back against Spike's chest as his left hand releases one of her breasts from its lacy covering. The skin draws up in the chill, sending a shiver straight to her core. She struggles to find voice as Spike's mouth comes down on her neck.  
  
"Sp-Spike.right here? Someone could see us."  
  
"They didn't." He trails kisses down the column of her neck, drawing out a moan.  
  
Buffy grins through her pleasure, the deliciousness of their situation breaking down her inhibitions. "I know. I just don't want to make anyone jealous."  
  
A soft chuckle against her skin sends Buffy halfway to a puddle. "That's my girl. I mean, my hostage."  
  
Buffy straightens in mock seriousness, "Right, right. Listen, Mr. Bad Guy, you let me go or I'll scream." She cranes her neck around to look him in the face.  
  
"Oh you'll scream, alright." She can see the glint of white teeth as Spike grins at her. She matches his expression and just then, she feels him relax his hold on her with his right arm. It is all the opening she needs.  
  
He should have suspected it, she is not the Chosen One for nothing. In a maneuver born of instinct and birthright, she spins around and slams Spike's body back against the tree trunk with her own. He can make out her tongue wetting her lips as she looks up at him. "Is that a promise?" As she speaks, Buffy slowly rolls her body against his until she has him quivering in want.  
  
"Cross my heart, luv." Spike's newly freed hands slide down Buffy's sleek thighs and back up again, dragging her short skirt up with them. Buffy squirms as her bare ass meets the night air. The smirk on Spike's face widens as his hands find her exposed flesh and squeezes. "All this time, pet? And you didn't tell me?" He flashes back to sitting on the couch with her at Giles, squeezing her thigh in reassurance. Not even realizing his fingers were mere inches from her.  
  
Buffy stretches up against him, hard nipples poking him through his lightweight shirt. Her entire body is a live wire at the moment, discharging shocks into him and cycling right back into her. Her mouth brushes his lightly, a smile only for him. "Was a surprise, Spike. Did it work?"  
  
"Surely bloody did." His hands tighten around her ass, lifting her up. Buffy's legs automatically straddle his lean hips, her shins scraping against the tree. Instantly, she feels the hard bulge in the front of his pants and rubs against it with the warmth between her legs. Spike's arms shake a bit, wondering how he can hold her if he blacks out from pleasure.  
  
"Damn, baby. That all for me?" Buffy escalates the dirty talk, stunned at what this devilishly handsome man brings out in her. But loving it all the same. No one has ever made her feel like such a vixen. She gyrates on him again, her heat burning through his clothing until he feels near combustion. Her mouth tastes his, lighting on it softly over and over, nipping and nibbling his lips.  
  
She drives him to the point where he can almost not manage a snappy comeback. Her body on his, firm ass in his hands, tight little self rubbing against him. Maybe he already has died and gotten a free pass to the good side of the afterlife? When he feels Buffy's hands drop to his belt, he knows it is true. Definitely dead, definitely heaven.  
  
"You know it is, pet. All of that and more." She quickly undoes his belt and jeans, her hand diving in to find him impossibly hard.  
  
"Good thing, 'cause Buffy doesn't share too well." Angling her hips quickly, Buffy drops onto his erection without ceremony, feeling the shaft stretch and fill her suddenly, pushing the barrier between pleasure and pain. Spike cries out before tightening his grip on her ass, holding her very still and fully impaled. Buffy's head is thrown back, her neck mere inches from his mouth, strong and slender, blood pumping hard and fast. He leans forward and draws a long slow lick up the skin there, tracing the artery with his firm tongue. A slight tang of sweat and jasmine fills his mouth as he feels her pulse against his tongue. Buffy brings her head forward, meeting Spike's eyes, welcoming the incredible surge of arousal that rises from their joining to flush her face pink. As her eyes adjust to the dark under the trees, she can start to make out his features again. The strong nose, those angular cheekbones, and oh god, his lips. Gentle and firm at the same time, the bottom one a bit more full, begging for her to grab it. She dives forward, covering his mouth with her own, demanding entrance with her tongue.  
  
Spike welcomes her, extending and deepening the kiss as he struggles for control. Only an effort of supreme will kept him from coming the second she jumped on him. Between her incredible tightness and the slick warmth she offers, he is near to exploding every time he enters her. Not to mention the weight of emotion on his heart when he feels her against his skin. Spike's fingers caress her rear, admiring the smooth firmness as he lifts her slightly. Working with him, she lifts with her powerful thigh muscles, nearly pulling him out of her before sliding him back home. Spike's jaw clenches, every muscle in his neck gone rigid as their kiss continues. He's going to come in thirty seconds at this rate.  
  
Buffy loves feeling his body go tight, loves knowing she is the cause of his struggle, of the pleasure he is experiencing. She tightens her pelvic muscles, milking him hard on the next slow thrust. Spike groans, burying his face in her neck. "Oh god, Buffy. I don't.oh god, you are so bloody hot." Buffy grins again, the feeling of him inside her satisfying in a way she didn't think possible. But she doesn't want it to end just yet.  
  
Taking one hand off his shoulders, Buffy pulls Spike's face in front of hers. "Shh, love. Right here. Look at me." Her eyes holding him still, she rises and falls once. His hands slide up to hold her back, fingers clutching. Her movement becomes fluid, hips bucking ever so slightly against him, inner muscles pulling. Every entrance shaking her from her toes to the tips of her ears. All the while, their eyes stay locked, anchoring each other. Though the light is dim, Buffy can see that gentle blue, can feel the love pouring over her from its depths. Not realizing one of Spike's hands has been traveling, Buffy feels her body tighten below her navel. He continues to rub her bundle of nerves until she can't feel her legs. She moves harder and faster, body rubbing against his at a frantic pace, drawing him to the edge of climax and then pushing him right over. In quick succession, they both come, bodies screaming in pleasure as they break eye contact for a passionate kiss. Spike feels his control dissolve as he comes and they slide down the tree, landing in a heap of limbs and half-removed clothing. The night is nearly silent, broken only by the sounds of distant cars and heavy breathing. Reluctant to slide off Spike, Buffy wraps her legs around him, holding him tight against her. Spike's hands trail on her back in slow, lazy circles. Buffy presses her lips against his neck, his ear, cheek and finally his mouth. Soft and careful, tender and truly loving. She pulls away, looks into Spike's eyes. He smiles and she wants to kiss the tiny crinkles at the edge of his eyes.  
  
"Can you stand up?" Buffy giggles lightly, shifting slightly in his lap. The sensation of him hardening inside her widens her eyes. He couldn't.could he? "Guess that answers THAT question. But really, can you? I can't feel my legs...in a good way."  
  
"Luv, is this your roundabout way of asking me to carry you?"  
  
She drapes her arms around his neck and nods.  
  
"To your house?" Another nod.  
  
"To sleep?" She shakes her head, a smile touching her mouth.  
  
"Said I was gonna have my wicked ways with you, honey. This was just one of them."  
  
"Well, in that case, up we go." Spike finds a new strength, standing up instantly. Buffy bursts into giggles at his quick reaction as they separate and adjust their clothes. She holds out her arms, expecting to be cradled in his arms. In one swift movement, Spike throws her over one shoulder, his arm holding her by the thighs. She squeals in surprise as he starts to stride towards her house. "Got some wicked ways myself, luv."  
  
"Oh you! You're gonna get it!" Buffy squirms, her butt in the air.  
  
"That's the idea, luv." Spike's laughter mixes with Buffy's squeaks of indignation as he proceeds through the dark streets of Sunnydale.  
  
******************** Author's Note: Sorry once more for the delay in posting. Real life has been too too busy for me lately. I will advance the plot in the next chapter, but thought no one would mind a bit of fun in this one. As always, reviews are welcomed and very appreciated! -Ti 


	36. Chapter 36: Not Now

* * * * * Chapter 36: Not Now * * * * *  
  
Spike turns on Buffy's doorstep, letting her unlock her front door from her perch hanging over his shoulder. When she gets the key turned, he spins back around and kicks the door open before stepping inside. Something about carrying a girl over a threshold shoots through his brain, but is quickly derailed by a sharp pain in his rear end.  
  
"Did you just pinch me, pet?" His voice is incredulous.  
  
"Maybe." Buffy is nearly breathless from being carried like a sack of potatoes for the last ten blocks.  
  
"You do realize that I have you in a most precarious position, right, Slayer?"  
  
Buffy ignores his question and counters with one of her own. "Remember the last time you carried me home, Spike?" Her voice is softer and Spike feels a sensation akin to his heart skipping. If it could.  
  
"Yeah, luv. I remember." Spike shakes his head slightly. Could it have only been just a few nights ago that he carried the wounded Slayer back to her bed? On a night that ended in the frantic consummation of their lustful feelings? He chuckles, realizing why Buffy brought this up. "Pinched me on the ass that night too." Spike feels Buffy's body shake on his shoulder as she laughs.  
  
"Well, can you blame a girl? I mean, it's too bad you can't get a look back here.but trust me on this one - very very pinch-able." As if to prove her point, Buffy gives Spike's denim-clad rear another solid grab.  
  
"'Ey! Watch how hard you grab with that Slayer strength. Gonna leave little bruises all over my bum." Spike grabs Buffy by the waist and pulls her off his shoulder, letting her body slowly drag down his until her feet hit the floor. With a backwards kick of his leg, he closes the door behind them. The front hall is only lit by sparse moonlight filtering through the windows.  
  
Buffy sways for a minute, waiting for the blood to rush out of her head and back into the rest of her. When she can focus her eyes, she moves back closer to Spike, a whisper of air separating them. She tilts her head back so she can look up into his eyes, dark in this light.  
  
Her voice is soft and warm, tickling his skin. "You know what else I remember from that night, Spike? When you carried me?"  
  
Buffy pauses and Spike continues to watch her closely, knowing he doesn't need to answer her. Buffy's hands slide up his leather covered arms slowly. "I remember how good it felt to be in these arms. How safe and warm I felt." She swallows, lowering her eyes to follow the path of her hands. Spike slowly puts his arms around her, still silent. Buffy tilts her head to the side, looking back up at her lover. "I remember something else from that night."  
  
A few seconds later, Spike speaks, his voice soft and thick with emotion in the darkened hall. "What's that, Buffy?" She feels his fingers move slowly on her back, lightly skating over her shirt.  
  
Buffy's face undergoes a transformation, eyebrows raising, mouth twitching into an expression of mischief, eyes twinkling with ideas that would make her mother blush. "I remember how bad I wanted you." Meeting Spike's eyes for a second, she leans forward and presses a kiss onto the bare skin where his shirt is open. Her second kiss is on the side of his neck. The third just below his ear. Her voice is honeyed, muffled by her kiss to his jawline. "Real real bad." Buffy's blunt teeth move down to slowly sink into Spike's neck, quickly followed by one slow lick of her tongue. From the corner of her eye, she sees Spike's Adam's apple bob as he swallows. She jumps when his hands clamp around her upper arms, startling her with his strength, with the tightness of his grip. Her eyes jump to his. The look in his eyes alone makes her instantly wet. Buffy can see the muscles in his neck tighten as he just barely maintains control.  
  
"You think you wanted me bad that night, Slayer?" His voice is dangerously deep, sending Buffy's heart racing. "Do you have any idea what I went through when I carried you home?" She shakes her head mutely. Spike's hands release their death grip on her arms and slowly glide down her skin. "Had this delicously warm, soft body right up against my chest, your heartbeat slow and steady, pulsing. Your strong little hands running all over me, your body shaking against mine when you laughed. Made me want to throw you down in the middle of the bloody street and rip your clothes off like an animal."  
  
Buffy's eyes widen at Spike's matter of fact admission. Somehow she had never thought of what that night was like for Spike, of when she passed out in his arms after the vamp attack. He is right, she was flirtatious and vulnerable on that walk. Before she fell unconscious, of course. She is drawn out of her memory by a loud ripping sound. Buffy looks down to find her shirt torn down the middle, hanging open. She looks back up with a smirk as Spike tries and fails to look apologetic.  
  
"Sorry, luv. I just...couldn't help myself." His tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip.  
  
"Only fair, Spike. Think of the recent damage I've done to your wardrobe." Her eyes dance, thoughts of the naughty persuasion filling them. "So what else did you want to do to me that night? Hmm?" Buffy's hands come up to pull the tatters of her shirt down and off, leaving her in just a tight black bra.  
  
Spike's hands instantly go to her bare skin, pressing into the flesh just below her neck, feeling the rapid pace of her heart under his right palm.  
  
"Wanted to.I wanted." Buffy hears the growl slip into his speech and sees the flecks of gold dancing in his deep blue eyes. His fingertips dig into her skin as his face tries to transform. Spike shakes it off, body trembling with effort and a healthy dose of fear.  
  
Reading his mind, Buffy reaches up and brushes against his cheek, remembering one more detail about that night. "It was the blood, wasn't it? You remember the smell of my blood from where I got hurt." Spike nods, clearly not trusting his voice, his eyes locked onto the pulsing artery in her neck. Buffy moves into him, her body grazing his, the cold leather making her fight down a shiver. "Sweet sweet Slayer blood, am I right?" Without waiting for a reply, she tilts her head to the side, exposing the tiny scars where Spike tasted her a few days before. Spike's hands shake, his eyes now darting from her neck to her eyes. Buffy's voice continues, hypnotic, one finger trailing down her bare neck. "Intoxicating." Spike's gaze follows the trail her finger is burning, dropping between her breasts. "Warm. Powerful." Suddenly, Spike's hand comes down to cover hers, his cool fingers brushing Buffy's chest.  
  
"No, luv. Wasn't the blood. Mind you, the blood was tempting, but no. The thing I wanted that was intoxicating," His hand moves to cup her breast, applying gentle pressure. "Warm," The other hand slides up to touch the side of her face. "And powerful.was you."  
  
Buffy feels a quiver of excitement from deep in her core at his words, at his voice dripping with sex and passion and most importantly, love. She knew she was more than a delicious treat to him, but it doesn't hurt to hear it. Now he gets the reward. "But you still want the blood, eh, sweetie?" Her smile is dazzling and Spike feels a surge of emotion he is still growing used to. This side of her is so new to him. The playful, naughty flirt. She hides it well most of the time. Buffy stands on her tiptoes, pressing against him, her breasts trapping his hand between their bodies. Her voice drops to a throaty whisper on her next words. "I mean, you still really want it, right?" Her breath on his face is hot and sweet and Spike feels the bloodthirst surge to the forefront again, battling his lust for dominance.  
  
"God, Buffy. Do you have any idea what you do to me?"  
  
Buffy rolls her hips against his, feeling the obvious bulge in his pants. She continues to smile. "I'm starting to get an idea." Spike rolls his neck, flexing the muscles in his jaw, her movements just about the end of his self-control.  
  
"Slayer." The voice is almost a warning. He swallows, pulling himself down into a semblance of calm. "Buffy." Spike closes his eyes, fighting his more animalistic urges, then reopens them to find Buffy's green eyes hooded and penetrating.  
  
"Don't fight it, Spike. You know I love you, don't you?" She nods her head, coaxing Spike into nodding with her. Her fingers play with the buttons on his shirt, slowly popping them open as she talks. One hand slides under the fabric, caressing his chest. "And if I love you, I must love all of you.right? Even the lumpies and the pointy teeth?" She nods again and Spike once again follows her lead. "I mean, I'm no logician.logicist.or um, logic guy, but that makes sense to me. Okay, so stay with me on with this one. You listening?" Buffy puts one finger under Spike's chin, drawing his glazed eyes into hers. Another nod. "And you love me, right?"  
  
Spike finally finds his voice, gravelly and rough. "You know I do, Slayer."  
  
"Stands to reason that you would love my blood too, then. I mean, hello, vampire." Buffy spreads Spike's shirt apart, letting the bare skin of her torso kiss against his. She leans in, presses her hot lips to his chest, moves up towards his neck with tiny little nips of her teeth. "So, if I'm offering, I suggest you take. Got it?" Her last nip is sharp against his neck, her teeth nearly meeting as they catch his flesh. Spike jumps a little and feels his self-control dissolve. Her words and her breathtaking presence has done him in.  
  
With a fierce growl and the beginnings of his game face, Spike wraps one arm around Buffy's back, lifting her off the ground and holding her against him. Buffy is triumphant, having successfully drawn out the demon that, truth be told, makes her horny as hell. Infuriating, cocky but also sexy and dangerous. What a combination.  
  
Spike's tongue is slick and wet as he licks Buffy's skin from chest to neck in one long trail. She shudders, the anticipation of having that tongue on her almost doing her in. She can feel his incredibly hard erection grinding into her through her skirt and Buffy lets out a long, slow moan.  
  
If he needed further invitation, Spike has it. With three long strides, they are in the dining room and he drops her butt on the edge of the table and stands between her legs. His eyes meet hers in question, their color surging from blue to yellow in a dance she has never seen before. Buffy's only answer is to lift up her hair, exposing the delicate column of her neck to the moonlight and to Spike's burning gaze. His reply is swift and sharp, literally. In a blur of black leather and ivory skin, Buffy feels his fangs dive into her flesh without preamble and the quiver of pain and intense physical connection drives straight down into her sex, triggering an onslaught of moisture and heat.  
  
Spike's head swims, the blood of a Slayer, of his Slayer once again on his tongue. In the haze of the drug that is her blood, his mind reels at the implications of her continuing to offer herself to him in this way. If their bond was tight before, this makes it impenetrable. Suddenly, he feels Buffy's warm little hands below his waist and realizes she has been busy in the few seconds since he's bitten her. It doesn't take long to figure out what she wants. Without releasing her neck, Spike finds her hips and lets her guide him to her opening. His thrust into her core is as sharp and sudden as his bite and he feels Buffy's whole body react to the double penetration.  
  
Buffy gasps, her body rocked with so many sensations all at once she can't focus on any one of them. She revels in the intimate connection she and Spike are sharing even as she realizes the room is starting to tilt a bit off kilter. Lightheaded. Dizzy. Blood. Lack of. Just as she braces herself to stop Spike, he jerks his teeth from her neck with one supreme effort and lies his head back on her chest, gasping for air. Air he doesn't need, but seems to crave. He is still buried in her to the hilt, but has stilled his hips.  
  
The voice is barely audible, words spoken into her skin. "m' sorry, luv. Almost got carried away. Kinda did, actually."  
  
Buffy's hand, shaking just a bit, reaches up and strokes through his platinum curls, gently parting them this way and that, wrapping them around her fingers. The contact steadies her. "Don't apologize, Spike. Willing participant, remember?" Her neck burns where he bit her but it feels like her skin is already closing around the punctures. Good old Slayer healing powers save the day once again. Spike's unnatural breathing slows as he gains back some fragments of his self-control. The blinding bloodlust subsides, quickly replaced and surpassed by lust with a capital L. It is no coincidence that Buffy takes this chance to remind him of her talent at controlling all her muscles, even those currently surrounding him. He jumps a little, standing up straight, as Buffy makes her presence known with authority. His knees nearly buckle as Buffy's legs wrap around his waist, pulling him into her warmth.  
  
"Sure you're okay, luv?" Buffy nods and Spike finally grins at her, licking his lips slowly.  
  
"Was it good?" Buffy tilts her head at him, curiosity getting the better of her.  
  
"Good? Good doesn't begin to cover it, pet. Like heaven, or what I imagine heaven might be for a bloke like me."  
  
Buffy smiles, his answer clearly satisfactory. "Well, don't stop now." She pulses her hips against him and feels him harden further inside.  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it." Spike plants his hands down on the table on either side of Buffy's hips. He pulls back out of her, nearly withdrawing completely. Before Buffy can whimper in protest, he drives back home with a force that lifts her off the table. The gentle bump elicits a gasp of pleasure from Buffy and she takes a death grip on his shoulders with each hand. Again and again, Spike thrusts into her, hard and fast. Both so taken with the fury of this coupling, they can do nothing but look at each other. Buffy has been trying to lure him into completely letting go with her and finally has her wish. His inhibition dissolves in the face of his blood sated self and he claims her over and over again as his own. With bruising intensity, Buffy meets him at every entrance, her strength more than a match for his, a tussle of will and love and desire investing each action. Close to coming since Spike first licked her neck, Buffy finally releases, coming with a frenzy, her muscles spasming. Spike growls, her sudden clenching the last step on his path to a body-rocking orgasm. His growl rises up from his throat, accompanied by those gold-flecked eyes, before exploding into a roar of satisfaction. Their bodies move together for seconds afterward as they collapse into each other, still upright. Buffy's legs slide loosely to rest on Spike's hips as his hands come to rest on her upper thighs. Slicked in sweat, Buffy tucks her head into Spike's neck, smelling the musk of him, the incredible maleness of her love. Her body continues to lightly convulse, unwilling to let this orgasm end before finally going slack.  
  
Noting that Buffy is limp as a rag doll, Spike moves his arms around her, gathering her up. She locks her legs around his waist again, snuggling deeper into his chest.  
  
"Upstairs, my love?"  
  
"Mmm-hmm." Sated and sleepy, Buffy presses her lips into Spike's neck, making soft noises.  
  
Spike's heart threatens to burst at the sweetness in his arms. How can he possibly leave her? He stops walking suddenly at this unexpected thought. Leave her? Why did he think that? Rupert's words of earlier that evening surge over him in a nauseating wave. He shakes his head. Not now. Don't think of it now. He looks down at the top of Buffy's blond head, his expression soft with affection.  
  
Not now. 


	37. Chapter 37: Fears

* * * * * Chapter 37: Fears * * * * *  
  
"My love, what's wrong?" Cupid's face wrinkles in concern as he enters his chamber to the sound of quiet sniffling.  
  
Psyche turns, tears streaming down her cherubic face, her dark brown eyes glistening. "Oh, my dear, there is nothing wrong. Just look." She sighs and turns back to the scene unfolding below her in the gazing pool. Cupid leans over her shoulder to see what she sees.  
  
* * *  
  
Spike is leaning over Buffy's bed, gently setting her down and unfolding her limbs from his. Buffy's head lolls, as she is clearly sound asleep. Spike slides his hand under her head to keep it from falling backwards as he places it on the pillow. He slips her legs under the sheet and pulls it up to cover her. Buffy wiggles a bit in her sleep, making quiet murmurs and burrowing into the covers. Spike freezes, making sure she is staying asleep before he moves another muscle. When Buffy settles back into a deep sleep, he moves back to stand up straight. He hesitates, one hand reaching out tentatively to brush a loose lock of hair from her face. His fingers just graze her warm skin and his hand shakes a little. Without thinking, he leans forward, pressing his lips lightly to her forehead. He stands back up slowly, watching her closely. She stays asleep. Spike backs away from the bed and lowers himself into the chair near Buffy's window. He sits on the edge of the seat, hands clasped, moonlight coming over one shoulder. His eyes are locked on the sleeping form in the bed, the expression in them soft, tender and wracked with worry.  
  
* * *  
  
Psyche looks up at Cupid, tears drying in salty trails down her cheeks. "Have you ever seen anything more sweet, my dear? Oh, he loves her so much." Psyche sighs, fingers trailing in the water below, swirling the scene into undulating ripples.  
  
Cupid rests his hand on her shoulder for a moment before speaking. His voice is serious. "I've returned from my visit, darling."  
  
"Oh! Yes, how did it go? Did you get any answers from those three?" Psyche jumps to her feet, facing Cupid. "They won't truly let him die, will they? Not when they've just found each other?" Her eyes begin to well again.  
  
"Have you ever spoken with the Fates, my sweet one? I wish it were so easy. It is purely impossible to get a straight answer from any one of them. Every other phrase out of their mouths is 'And so it shall be' and 'destiny waits for no man.' It is truly annoying." Unused to feeling frustration, Cupid runs his hands through his golden hair, clearly unsettled. "I tried to find out if they altered our course and they just would not admit it. They are the only beings on this plane that can shape the actions of the gods, but still they avoid my questions. I know they did it. Somehow, they have been behind our plans all along without our knowledge." Cupid paces the chamber, agitation plain on his chiseled features.  
  
"But.putting the vampire and Slayer together was our idea. Not theirs. I don't." Psyche's voice trails off in confusion.  
  
"I know. I know. It seemed like it was our idea, but that is exactly what they do. They arrange the fates of people, make things happen in certain ways. I appealed to Lachesis for more information about the path chosen for these two, but she was stubborn as the other two. Clotho would only say, 'I spun his thread over a hundred years ago and wove it strong. He was chosen to exist for this length of time. Hers is equally strong if not so long.' And then Lachesis said, 'His lot has been decided much as hers was when she was Chosen. He too has been Chosen.' I asked them what he was Chosen for and they just stopped talking. Atropos just sat there with her shears, snipping away at threads of life as if she was doing her sewing. Finally, I was dismissed from their presence like a small child with these words from the measurer, from Lachesis: 'What should happen will happen, Eros. He will make his Choice.'" Cupid sighs. "I can only say this, my love, those three goddesses do something no other being can." He stops walking and turns to his mate. "They frighten me."  
  
"You? But, my dearest, you are a god. They cannot harm you. Atropos cannot cut your thread of life. Her power is only for the human world." Psyche feels a deep relief that Jupiter made her immortal when she came to Olympus as Cupid's bride.  
  
"My sweet angel, I still cannot risk angering them. They are the only among us that can control the other gods and goddesses. It is most unnerving." Cupid pulls his lover into his arms, holding her tight. "I do not like to think that my actions are not my own. I only hope I can intervene or assist our two lovers in staying together. Somehow."  
  
Uncomfortable with their lack of power in this situation, Cupid and Psyche turn their eyes back to the pool to see what the night brings.  
  
* * *  
  
Spike is still seated in the chair at the foot of Buffy's bed, the turmoil inside visible in his strained expression. Having changed positions in the chair several times over the last hour or so, he leans forward again, elbows on knees, eyes staring blankly ahead before his face finally falls into his hands. He rubs at his face, hoping to wipe away some of the thoughts stabbing through his mind. When he looks up again, his eyes are moist with unshed tears. Buffy turns over in her sleep, grasping her pillow tightly. Spike's gaze travels up her body, from the shape hidden in the sheet to the bare skin exposed above. Her golden hair is blue silver in the moonlight, making her look like some otherworldly creature. Spike's heart aches at the sight of her, so peaceful and calm. And yet he knows her body is always on alert, could leap into fighting form if needed. That's one of the reasons he loves her. This delicate shell surrounding a core of iron will. How could he not love a creature like that? Spike grimaces. How could he possibly make a decision that ended his time with her? But then again, how could he not? From the sound of what Rupert said, one choice saves her and the rest of the human race while damning him and the other choice does just the opposite. Either way, he is lost. Spike wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, frustrated with his helplessness. He doesn't like playing these games. Just point him at a good fight and cut him loose. The muscles in his jaw twitch, the tension becoming unbearable. He should be in bed with her, that soft body pulled tight against him, but his fear of losing her has him pulled taut as a bowstring waiting to be plucked.  
  
Finally, he reaches a decision. As loath as he is to leave her alone, this cannot wait. On silent cat feet, Spike slips out into the hallway and works his way downstairs, refastening his shirt and jeans. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, before looking back up, straining to hear Buffy's regular breaths. Finally, with a sigh, he moves to the front door and pulls it open, stalking out into the late night.  
  
*BANG BANG BANG* Spike pounds on the front door of Giles' apartment relentlessly. "'ey, Rupert! Rise and shine, mate!" *BANG BANG BA - * "Oh, there you are." The door swings open in mid-bang to reveal a bleary- eyed Giles, his robe thrown haphazardly around him, hair sticking up in every direction.  
  
His voice is tired and extremely irritated. "Spike, what in god's name are you doing here?"  
  
Spike leans past him, peering into the dark room. "What, you were asleep? Thought you lot were going to research the night away."  
  
"My apologies, Spike, but it's the middle of the night. We decided to take a break and resume first thing." Giles rubs at his eyes, fumbling in his pocket for his glasses. "What do you want?" Spike walks past Giles into the living room, flopping down in the nearest easy chair. "Oh, by all bloody means, do come in." Giles sighs, closing the front door. He turns on a lamp and takes a seat on the couch opposite Spike, sliding his glasses onto his face.  
  
"So, did you and the witches find anything useful? Any quick fix to my little problem?" Spike strains to look unconcerned as Giles looks at him, his tone light.  
  
"No, Spike, we did not. I have a few ideas on the origin of the prophecy, but I have to get additional texts out of storage in the morning to check the details." Rubbing his eyes under his glasses, Giles runs his hand through his hair. He looks curiously at the vampire across from him. Something in his body language is off.  
  
"'Cause, here's the thing. Not quite ready to go, see. So, I'd appreciate some idea of how I can stick around a bit longer and not damn humanity in the bargain." Spike's complete turnaround from earlier, from his confidence and nonchalance, is unnerving to the Watcher. He squints at Spike, whose face is partly in shadow.  
  
"Spike, you came over here in the middle of the night, presumably leaving Buffy, just to check on our progress in research?"  
  
"Yeah, well. I'm a vampire, don't sleep much at night, anyway. Buffy was out cold." Spike shifts in his seat, hands running up and down his thighs. Talking to the Watcher has never been comfortable, he's always so disapproving.  
  
"And?" Giles knows there is more.  
  
"And.well, don't want to leave. Don't want to leave her." Spike fiddles with the leather of his duster, leaning forward into the light before casting his eyes up to meet Giles'.  
  
Giles is struck by the open wound in that gaze. The burning pain surging through those deep blue eyes. "My god, Spike." Giles struggles, struck wordless. The idea of Spike loving Buffy this much is so new. While he wholeheartedly approves, he is still not fully used to the idea. Only last week, they were still fighting all the time. But this pain, this love, it's rolling off Spike in waves, like a physical force.  
  
Spike clears his throat, swallowing his desire to be brave and tough in front of the other man. "I love her, Giles. Love her more than I thought possible. She's my - she's my everything." His voice quivers on the last word. Spike's head drops again, his declaration taking its toll on his composure. Needs the Watcher's help, doesn't mean he needs to see him cry. The two Englishmen have always had an adversarial relationship and yet, Giles finds himself softening towards the blond vampire. He knows Spike loves her and that she loves him, but the realization that Spike might be willing to do anything in service of that love.that's a thought he had not examined. And yet here he is, desperate for an answer, nearly begging. Something Spike is not prone to do. If only he could help him.  
  
Giles' voice is gentle, fatherly. "I know, Spike. I know." Giles feels almost queasy in the presence of a creature suffering so. "I love her, too, you know. I - don't have any answer yet. I wish I did. I - don't want you to have to leave her, either." As soon as he says it, Giles knows he believes it in his heart of hearts. Buffy was glowing tonight. Happy. He would give anything to give her that feeling always. The two of them are bound by an abounding affection - she the daughter he never had and he the father she always craved.  
  
Silence takes hold of the room, thickening as minutes pass and Spike keeps his head down. Finally, he lifts it, eyes dark and piercing but also deeply sad. "I'll do the right thing, Rupert. Don't worry." Spike gets to his feet.  
  
Giles sighs, furrowing his brow, scrambling for another alternative. "Well, there is still a chance the transliteration is flawed - maybe it's - "  
  
Spike shakes his head, cutting off Giles' ramblings. "I'll be ready. I'll still be bloody well hoping you find an answer, but if you don't - I'll do it." He turns away, his next words quieter and far away. "I'll leave her - so she can live." Spike cuts his eyes over his shoulder at Giles. "I just thought you would want to know and all."  
  
Before Giles can speak, Spike makes for the door. His hand is on the knob before Giles blurts out, "Spike. You - if it counts for anything - I wish it could be different."  
  
Spike turns the knob to leave, never turning back to the saddened Watcher. "Thanks, mate." The door closes behind him with a click both final and ominous to Giles' ears. He stares at the closed door for several minutes before going to his writing desk and clicking on the lamp. Refastening his robe firmly, he takes a seat and opens the text there in the pool of light. Giles adjusts his glasses and starts to read again, hoping he missed something.  
  
* * *  
  
Spike lopes down the sidewalk, heading back towards Buffy's house. His gait is tighter than normal, the predatory grace slightly restricted. The smells of the night, the sights and sounds that usually make him feel alive and raring to go, are dull to him. His mind is clouded with anger and frustration, tainted with a dose of fear. Spike fights the urge to just yell: 'It's not fair!' Of course it's not fair. He scowls, letting his footsteps fall a bit harder as he continues towards Revello Drive.  
  
* * *  
  
A bonfire blazes, throwing orange sparks high into the night sky. The half moon shines down, its light covering the group in blue shadow. Buffy looks around, sees her friends standing to either side of her, fear on their faces, eyes locked straight ahead. She slowly turns, heart pounding, towards the focus of their attention. Spike. His back is to her, facing the flame. He is talking, but she can't see past the blazing flame to see who he is addressing. He shakes his head. She squints, trying to see past him, but the light of the fire is blinding her. He shakes his head again, more vehemently and roars, "NO!" Anger is pouring off him, generating its own heat. Buffy tries to move forward, but Xander holds her arm, whispering in her ear. "You can't interfere, Buffy." Just then, Spike drops to his knees and screams in pain. Buffy screams along with him.  
  
* * *  
  
Spike's head lifts as the night air is broken by a scream. Buffy's scream. All his thoughts are pushed roughly aside at the sound of his love in pain. He breaks into a run, only a block from her house, duster flying behind him. Flinging the door open and taking the steps three at a time, Spike crashes into her bedroom to find Buffy still screaming, eyes closed. He grabs her shoulders and shakes her. "Buffy!! Wake up, luv!"  
  
The scream finally fades as Buffy's eyes pop open, instantly wet with tears. "Oh god, Spike. I - I - it was awful - "  
  
Spike pulls her into his arms, sitting on the bed with her. "Just a dream, pet. Don't worry." He strokes her hair with his hand and realizes they are both shaking, hard. Spike tips her chin up. "Are you okay?" He takes his hand and brushes her hair off her wet cheeks, then leans down to plant a light kiss on her lips.  
  
Buffy tightens her grip around him, not meeting his eyes when she answers. "I'm fine, Spike. Just a dream, like you said." She stares off into the shadows of her room, thankful that Spike doesn't know her dreams, her dreams like the one she just had, are often prophetic thanks to her Slayer abilities. "Where did you go?" She tries to shove the fear down. It won't help Spike to hear it.  
  
Spike untangles himself from her grip and stands up. He drops his duster on the ground in a heap, followed by his shirt and jeans. Buffy can't help but smile at the display of his gorgeous naked body. "Just went for a walk, Buffy. Some fresh air. I'm sorry, luv." Spike decides it is best not to mention his late night visit to Giles. It will only serve to worry her more that Giles didn't know anything.and that Spike was scared enough to go ask.  
  
"S'okay. You're here now. And naked." The terror lessening slightly, Buffy reaches out to take his hand, pulling him into bed. Slipping under the covers, she curls into his body and he holds her tight. Eyes finally meeting, tenderness flowing between them, their fears remain unspoken but not unshared in that moment of knowing. Neither chooses to ask about the depth of fear in the other's eyes because they know. They know that tomorrow night at this time, they may not be together. And it makes them hold onto each other a just little bit tighter.  
  
**************** Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who is leaving such nice reviews. I really do appreciate it! :) Tiana 


	38. Chapter 38: A Bit of the Rough and Tumbl...

*****  
  
Chapter 38: A Bit of the Rough and Tumble  
  
*****  
  
"Spike?"  
  
Buffy's voice cracks the brittle silence of the dark room. Both were lying still, nowhere near sleep, nowhere near rest.   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Where did you really go?"  
  
Spike sighs, running his hands up and down her bare arms. "Thought I was a good liar, luv."  
  
"You may be, but I know you." Buffy props herself up on elbow, looking down at Spike's face. He struggles to not meet her eyes, gazing off into the room. "Not sure how I know you so well, but I do. It's like looking in the mirror sometimes…" She waits. "Not answering the question, Spike."   
  
Finally, he turns his eyes back from the shadows and looks up at her. His eyes are bottomless, so many emotions swirling in the depths. "Went for a walk…" Buffy lifts an eyebrow and Spike continues. "…to see your Watcher." He stops there.  
  
Buffy blinks. She's not sure what she thought he would say, but somehow that wasn't it. She figured he went and got in a bar fight or staked a few vamps to get out some frustration, some extra energy. Without her, which bugged her. But talking to Giles? She searches his face, eyes dancing back and forth over it, looking for a hint. She sees it. A small twitch in the mouth, slight tightening of his jaw. Buffy feels herself go cold all over. He's scared. It's the only reason he would go to Giles in the middle of the night. And with that thought, all her bravura, all her confidence, all her belief in things turning out right drops, falls away from her with a sickening, crunching thud. Ever since leaving Giles' house tonight, she had found a way to push further and further back from reality, unwilling to consider the alternative. Trying to get lost in Spike and not the possible loss of him. Fights to the death were her thing. If that was the challenge Giles had thrown down, she would have been fine. Even a little excited to get it done. But being asked to watch her love, the one she just found by a twist of fate, to watch him suffer and die on her behalf. Without being able to help? No. That was something she could not process, could not possibly accept. The Slayer is a woman of action, not of standing around. So she put her fear in a spot somewhere deep and locked it up. Pretended whatever got her through the next few hours – that Giles was wrong, that it wouldn't actually happen that Spike was not the one in the prophecy.   
  
But Spike's fear slices through her carefully constructed fortress like a blade through paper. Releasing her fear, her abject terror, into the open. It's all real. Buffy starts to shake, reliving the nightmare she just woke from. The heat from the bonfire burns her, his scream echoes in her mind.   
  
Spike's brow knits instantly at the tremors running through her body. "Buffy? What is it? Why…" He tightens his grip on her arms as she starts to shake harder and gasps for air. Spike can see her eyes glaze over, as if she is somewhere distant. He takes one hand and gently caresses her cheek. She swims back to the surface and looks into his concerned face, willing herself to not go completely to pieces. She draws on her innate ability as the Slayer to face adversity and remain strong. She bites her lip, trying to pull the tears back inside. He sees them threatening to tip over the edge and shakes his head. "No, luv. Don't cry. I just had some questions for old Ripper, eh? Sounds like a pretty big deal tomorrow and I was just…wanting to be prepared is all."   
  
Buffy tries a smile in the face of his attempt at soothing her. "Not usually a blubbering kinda girl, Spike. Look what you bring out of me."   
  
"'m sorry, pet." He looks genuinely worried.   
  
Buffy cocks her head at him, at this demon in man's clothing. Or is it a man in demon's clothing? Yes, definitely the second one. She aches. Her heart beats hard, her skin feels much too tight. Just looking at him makes her whole body throb in time with her accelerating heart. She's just about given up questioning the intense physical and now emotional reaction Spike elicits. Better to go with it. Action, reaction. It's all instinct for her.   
  
The silence lengthens as the two study each other. Both torn up inside over the possible end of this short passionate time together. Fear mixes with desire and anger with lust. Muscles twitch in anticipation of…well, they are not sure. The bodies of two warriors ache with the uncertainty. Both would rather be pointed at a big ugly foe rather than a bunch of words in a musty old text. What kind of enemy was that?  
  
Buffy's jaw sets, a familiar sight to the vampire across from her. She always looks that way when she…  
  
"Wanna fight." Buffy is not surprised at the completely confused expression that washes over Spike. Before he can question her abrupt declaration, she gets up from the bed and starts pulling on tight black workout pants. "I need to…I need to go on patrol."  
  
Spike sighs, thinking maybe Buffy is pulling away, running from her emotions into her sacred duty. Her voice cuts through his thoughts, "Are you planning to fight naked? I mean…I don't mind, but…" He turns to see her wriggling into a white tank top and tucking her hair into a low ponytail. "You are coming, right?" She comes over, taking his arm and snapping him out of his confusion.  
  
"'course, luv. Mind if I ask why the sudden need for violence?" Spike finds his clothes and starts to get dressed., relieved that she is not retreating.   
  
"Not violence that I need exactly, Spike. A fight. I need to win a fight." She tightens her jaw and he understands. She is feeling helpless in the face of the upcoming badness. She wants to beat something up. This is something he has always understood.   
  
"Good enough for me. Shall we?" Spike holds out his hand to his Slayer and she takes it with a small smile. Moments later, they hit the cool night, bodies thrumming with anticipation. Buffy cuts her eyes to Spike, seeing the confident smirk, the swagger in his walk that gives her thoughts of the downright dirty variety. The connection between them is alive, muscles moving under clothing in smooth cadence to an unheard beat. Spike feels her eyes on him and gives her a look, eyes smoldering. Two things he loves, this little firecracker and a good fight. Tonight, he gets both and he almost feels sorry for the first vamp they find, aside from himself, of course.   
  
Buffy feels a delicious warmth fill her, just being next to him as they stride across town to the cemetery. Going on patrol is not usually quite this sexually charged for her, but tonight, it is positively electric. She knows him, knows his body and his fighting style, and a small secret part of her admits that she always thought it was hot, long before she felt the sting of Cupid's arrow. Just as they finally enter the cemetery, she slows down enough to fall back a few steps, eyes dropping down his back, watching the ripples of muscle under his black t-shirt and tight jeans. Buffy is grateful he left the duster at her house so she could get the rear view she rarely sees. Eyes locked on his ass, her tongue touches her bottom lip, wetting it.   
  
Feeling Buffy drop her pace, Spike cuts his eyes over his shoulder without slowing down and catches her checking him out. He grins.  
  
"Like what you see, luv?"   
  
Buffy blushes slightly at being caught, but is still fairly unabashed in her admiration. "Yep."   
  
Spike stops and turns, amused by Buffy's small frown that her view has been taken away. He hooks one thumb in the front of his jeans, tugging them down just enough to reveal a sliver of pale skin. Buffy decides the view has actually improved.  
  
"I'm always up for a sudden change of plans, pet, but I did think you were keen on a fight, bit of the rough and tumble?" He lifts his eyebrows, loading every word with double meaning.  
  
Buffy puts her hands on her hips, studying the cocky figure in front of her. "Sounds like two different things to me, Spike. A fight is one thing…but a bit of the rough and tumble…" She slips closer to him, but not quite touching. Buffy leans in, her lips mere inches from his, breath hot on his skin. "…that's a whole other thing, eh, Spike?" Her tongue darts out to wet her top lip.   
  
Just as Buffy starts to lean into Spike, eyes slipping closed, her internal warning bells start ringing. Over his shoulder, she sees the reason for it. Two vamps approaching slowly from behind Spike, still about twenty yards off. They don't notice that she sees them and Buffy gets an idea. Playing dumb worked great the other night when some vamps tried to sneak up on she and Spike. This will be fun. With barely a hitch in her movement, Buffy brings her lips closer to Spikes and then whispers to him at a nearly inaudible level, "Play along, Spike. Two vamps coming up behind."  
  
"I know, Slayer." He winks at her and before she can respond, grabs her against him and slams his lips down on hers. Briefly startled, she recovers quickly and finds herself falling deeply into the kiss. She can tell he is getting off on this as much as she is. Teasing, dancing on the edge of danger. As proper as she may try to be by the daylight, this is when she feels well and truly alive. And he loves it as much as she does. Buffy moans and bites into Spike's bottom lip, her body reacting mightily to the hard form pressed against hers as well as the dangerous game they are playing. Her hands slide down and around, taking a tight grip on his jean-clad ass.   
  
Spike smiles against her mouth. That's his girl. Ever since he heard the vamps approaching, he watched her body for a signal. Before she even realized it, her body temperature started to rise, her heartbeat picked up. Reacting to the fight, the kill, by coming to full alertness. God, it made him insanely hot to see her light up like that. A low growl rumbles up from his chest, sending delicious vibrations through both their bodies. Releasing her mouth, he dives down to nip at her neck. Buffy throws her head to the side, easing his access to her bare skin. She risks opening her eyes a slit to see the vamps taking flank positions to their left and right. Clearly, they think they've found some stupid kids making out in a cemetery. Easy prey. How wrong they are. Well, except for the making out part, of course.  
  
Buffy turns her head back to Spike, putting her lips against his neck. With one slow lick, she travels up his neck to his ear. Another soft whisper, "You want the one on the right or left?" Before he answers, she bares her teeth, taking a sharp hold on the lobe. Spike jumps, the pain just enough to get his full attention. His left hand slides up cup Buffy's breast over her tank top. He takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and pinches, enjoying the sharp intake of breath as she reacts.   
  
His mouth still against her neck, he replies, "The one to my right, luv."   
  
Buffy's rolls her hips against his, sending an engraved invitation to his throbbing erection. Spike uses all his willpower to not throw her down on the hard ground and shag her senseless. Sod the stupid vamps. She was driving him mad. Mouth covering the line of his jaw, she whispers, "I'm going around and over your back, okay? On my count?"  
  
Spike nods, almost imperceptibly, leaning down to kiss along Buffy's collarbone. His traveling right hand finds the stake tucked in the back of her waistband. He leaves it for now. A little hand-to-hand first. For fun.   
  
Buffy kisses back down his neck, lips brushing lightly across his skin. "One." He can almost feel her more than hear her. She leans back enough to take his mouth with her again, tongue dancing across his lips. Breaking contact for a breath, "Two."  
  
Spike's hands move to her arms, gently skating over her bare flesh. He knows – and loves - the move she wants to do. Not enough to just kick the crap out of a vampire, she's gotta make it hot, too.   
  
Buffy's eyes cut left and right. The vamps are making their move, closing in from both sides at the same time. She brings her gaze back to center and locks into Spike's for a split second. Words unspoken, their look says it all. Time for action. Without a sound, Buffy mouths the word both their bodies are coiled and ready for.   
  
Three.  
  
In the space of a breath, Buffy steps to the side and around, throwing herself back to back with Spike, as he leans down, letting her legs pinwheel above her. Both feet come down in succession on the vamp leaping toward them from Spike's left, knocking him to the ground. Free of the Slayer on his back, Spike shoots out his right leg, cracking the other vamp just below the knee, shattering the bone and dropping him instantly. Now facing their opponents with their backs to each other, Buffy and Spike take a moment to enjoy the look of shock on the two writhing vamps' faces.   
  
Buffy cocks her head, hands on hips. "Hellooo, boys. Slayer here. Not too…"  
  
"…bloody bright if you ask me." Spike cracks his neck, fists up and ready. "Now, come on! Get up and…"  
  
"…take a shot. You know you want to. I'll even let you…"  
  
"…get all the way up before I knock you on your ass this time." Spike's grin spreads as the vamp at his feet growls, yellow eyes flashing up at him. Spike gestures for him to get up with both hands, egging him on. Buffy's vamp continues to pant on the ground, holding his head and groaning. She looks over her shoulder to see Spike bouncing on the balls of his feet, like he always does during a fight. Rocking back and forth, waiting for his opponent to blink. Not wanting to get caught up in admiring her lover's fighting ability, Buffy turns her attention back to her vamp. She has a split second to curse as the vampire leaps at her, knocking her to the ground beneath him, off to the side. Buffy lets out a small 'oof' as they land. Mad at herself for letting her guard down, she growls at the vamp. "You are so going to regret that. Do you know how hard it is to get grass stains out of this top?" Buffy curls up, shoving her feet into the vamp's midsection and kicking him clear over her head. Popping to her feet, she spins on him. She hears Spike's voice.   
  
"Too right, mate. You're in trouble. She hates to do the washing." She cuts her eyes at him, catching him kick his vamp under the chin, sending him sprawling on his back in the grass before throwing a dashing grin her direction.  
  
Buffy rolls her eyes at Spike before returning her attention to her opponent. No sense getting knocked on her rear again because of the distraction of Spike. He gets to his feet, looking at her warily, body slightly hunched.   
  
"Gonna kill you, Slayer," the vamp growls at her.   
  
Buffy puts one hand on her hip, the other to her mouth, covering a mock yawn. "In all the time it took you to rise, THAT was the scariest thing you could come up with to say to me?" Buffy swings her right leg up and over, cracking the vamp across the cheek. She follows with a quick left to the face and a right to the stomach, doubling him over. "'Cause I hate to break it to ya, but no. You're not." Her next left, a sharp uppercut, sends him flying through the air. He comes down on a tombstone, cracking his back. Keeping one eye on him, she turns to watch Spike.   
  
His vamp back on his feet, Spike lays into him with a series of punches, spinning like a whirling dervish. The vamp's body bounces back and forth, buffeted by the force of one punch after another. She can tell that he would likely drop if Spike only stopped hitting him for a second. Which he does and she watches the vamp tip forwards, unconscious before he hits the ground. Spike frowns at the still form in front of him before turning to the Slayer. Her chest heaves, partly from the mild exertion of her fight, but mostly from the sight of him in action. Behind her, he sees the vamp scramble up from the tombstone he landed on. Buffy sees him start to speak, to warn her, but she stops him by mouthing 'I know.' Spike runs his tongue over his front teeth, wondering if this girl could be any more blazing hot. As the vamp increases speed and leaves his feet to tackle her, Buffy finally breaks her eye contact with Spike, ducking forward. Startled but unable to stop his motion, the vamp starts over her head. Buffy's arm shoots up, grabbing him by the shirt and using his momentum to carry him to the ground. In the same smooth motion, her other arms pulls the stake from the back of her pants. Dropping to one knee, she brings the stake down and plunges it straight into his heart, dusting him. Spike chuckles, both hands on his hips, shaking his head.   
  
"Slayer, have I told you lately that you are bloody amazing?"   
  
Buffy takes the tip of the stake in her hand and waves Spike down. "Spike, get down!" Dropping instantly to a crouch, Spike watches Buffy zing the stake through the air, straight through the heart of his newly recovered opponent coming up behind him. When the cloud of dust clears, he turns to see the stake quivering in the bark of the tree ten feet behind him. He turns back to grin at Buffy, who is getting to her feet, brushing her hands off on her pants.   
  
"No, Spike. Not lately." She grins at him, skin flushed with excitement.   
  
"Well, you are. Happy now? You got the fight you wanted."   
  
Buffy saunters closer to the black clad vamp. "Yeah, but now I want that bit of the rough and tumble."   
  
Spike laughs, deep in his throat. "Girl after my own heart." Buffy's mouth on his ends any further conversation.  
  
***************  
  
Author's Note: Thanks for reading and leaving such great reviews! Feedback is welcomed with wide open arms. :) Tiana 


	39. Chapter 39: Cold Hands, Warm Heart

*****  
  
Chapter 39: Cold Hands, Warm Heart  
  
*****  
  
Normally being slammed against the cold stone wall of a tomb would get Spike right pissed. However, since the slammer is his little bundle of Slayer and she has anything but violence on her mind, he is actually quite pleased.   
  
Before he can express any of these thoughts, her mouth has him again. Hot and wet and very very insistent. Spike can feel her tongue dart into his mouth, tasting him, tangling with him. Same with her hands, tangled in his hair, her entire lithe body pressing into him as if she wants to feel his bare skin right through their clothes. Spike is grateful he doesn't need to breathe because she is not exactly giving him a chance to.   
  
"Oh god, Spike. Right here, right now." Her voice is rough, urgent. Spike feels her hands scramble on his shirt, yanking it from his jeans.   
  
Not one for modesty, Spike is still slightly surprised. "Here, luv?" He glances around, snapping back to Buffy as her nails skate up his bare back. "You sure?" His hands run down her bare arms, raising goosebumps in their wake. Little did he know his Buffy was a bit of an exhibitionist.  
  
Buffy's eyes are fully dilated, nearly black as they look up at him. She takes his words, turns them over, softens them as she continues to dive into his gaze. "Never been more sure in my life." Spike marvels at her ability to draw time to a near standstill just by looking at him like that.   
  
They both remain motionless, hands clutching skin, eyes telegraphing a connection stronger than it would seem possible in such a short time. Buffy's words hang in the still night air, their certainty unwavering. Finally, Spike's mouths slowly stretches into a smile.  
  
"Same here, luv. Same here." Buffy meets him with a small smile of her own.  
  
"So, can we get to the here and the now? The wanting?" The glint is back in her eye, mischief getting back in the driver's seat for a spin.  
  
"For you, my love, anything." The change in intonation is very subtle, but Buffy picks up on it. Rather than using his typical endearment, a throw-away word, he called her love. His love. She can't recall hearing him talk that before. Almost poetic. If possible, she wants him naked more than ever. Strange how love and lust stand side by side when it comes to Spike. Each drives her to the other and then back again. The burning feeling that makes her want to touch him is more expansive than mere lust. She doesn't just want him, she craves him with every inch of her body. Buffy feels like she will combust without his touch. And she wants to stay within arm's reach forever, stay with him forever, love him always. And the love, the softness in his eyes, the gentle turn of his hand makes her want to strip him naked in any setting. Love and lust all tied up in one luscious package.   
  
Buffy's hands move faster, desperately unfastening Spike's shirt, but trying not to ruin another one by ripping it. Finally, she has her hands on his bare skin, glowing silver in the moonlight. She whips her own tank top over her head, wanting that skin to skin contact more than ever. Buffy's need to absorb him in every possible way before...before whatever happens tomorrow reaches a nearly manic level. She dives in for another searing kiss.   
  
Spike's hands caress her back, playing with the straps of her bra, but not yet removing it. Her mouth on his is pure bliss, softness and warmth, tenderness and passionate fury all wrapped up in the force of this kiss. His hands slide up her back, one drags the band off her ponytail and they both slide into her glossy blond hair. The silken strands slip through his fingers, impossibly soft, a light floral scent rising to his nose. Spike can't help thinking that even the smell of the Slayer's bloody shampoo makes him hard. Of course, the things she is doing with her hands might have something do with that, too.  
  
The kiss breaking, Spike tries to look at Buffy's face, but it is mostly cast in shadow. Somehow, he can't stand it. He wants to see her. He cuts his eyes to the right and left before finding the perfect spot.   
  
"Come with me, pet."  
  
A pout instantly clouds Buffy's face. Not touching Spike is of the bad, and he is moving away. Spike's hand is holding hers tightly and gently tugs her to the right to follow him. His open shirt flapping behind him, Spike leads her to a low tomb. Out from under the trees, it is bathed in the light of the nearly half moon shining down on them. Hard stone grays are struck blue and silver in this night, making the cemetery seem otherworldly. Spike turns back to the tiny woman clutching his hand with her supernatural strength. Clutching as if she will never let go, a feeling that squeezes his heart just a bit too tight for comfort.   
  
Buffy reads his intentions immediately. Both the Slayer and the vampire reach out with their senses and find no adversaries in the area. It should be safe to be so much in the open. Spike stops by the tomb, pulls her by the hand up against him. The rough fabric of his jeans rubs against Buffy's bare stomach and she also feels the telltale sign that he is more than ready to go. She smiles a small satisfied smile at how much and how often he wants her. Vampire constitution is right up there with Slayer constitution. Spike takes their still clasped hands up to his mouth, tongue gently grazing her knuckles, followed by his lips. Buffy feels her knees go weak as his eyes burn into her. How can they want so badly? So often? Why is it that having him does nothing to lessen her need for him? If anything, it makes it grow and grow until she can't stand a room that he is not in. Buffy decides the time for questions is not this moment. Spike's other arm goes around her waist and lifts her. Turning in one motion, he sets her down on the tomb. Startled by how cold it is, Buffy jumps a little. His eyebrows knit in concern. "Too cold, love?" So, that is his word for her now. No more slang, not luv, but actual love. Buffy fights the need to shiver, but the stone is coming right through her thin workout pants. Biting her lip, she nods a little.   
  
"But it's okay. It's fine." Spike shakes his head.  
  
"No, pet. Won't have you shivering." Spike releases her and whips off his shirt quickly. Buffy takes a deep breath at the sensual movement of his muscles, arms and abs rippling in a most tempting fashion. The incredible ivory smoothness of his skin literally gleams in the flood of moonlight that surrounds them. He folds the shirt over several times to make it thicker and then sets it on the surface of the tomb right next to her. Buffy squeals as Spike lifts her off her rear and slides the shirt underneath. The shirt makes a huge difference. Plus, now her view of Spike's naked torso is unobstructed. She can't help thinking that in a few minutes, the coldness of the stone will be the last thing on her mind.   
  
"And they say chivalry is dead." She pauses, thinking. "Maybe it's just undead." Buffy giggles and Spike can't help but chuckle.   
  
"Oh, Slayer. You are too bloody much." He steps forward to stand between her legs, resting his hands on her thighs. Buffy smiles up at him as one hand lifts up to trail down her cheek slowly.   
  
Her hands return to their previous location. Spike realizes she already has his pants unbuttoned and unzipped. "Now, where were we?" Her warm hand slides into his pants, making Spike jump a little. "Ah yes, right here." Her tongue dances out to touch her top lip as she tilts her head to the side, studying him. Her hand begins to move up and down slowly, making Spike's eyes roll back in his head. He realizes that he couldn't care less if a crowd of demons pulled up chairs and watched them go at it while eating popcorn. Nothing is going to stop this little outdoor adventure.   
  
Spike's hands grab the waist of her pants and pull. Hard. Buffy gasps as he lifts her off the tomb to get them over her rear end. Before she can react, he moves back and they are off and tossed over his shoulder. Goosebumps cover her exposed skin, partly from the slight chill in the air and partly from him. He just makes her want to…do things.   
  
  
  
Spike glances down, as he realizes the Slayer is bare-assed on his shirt. His eyes widen slightly. He forgot that she didn't bother with underwear when they left tonight. The reminder is pleasant, indeed. Meeting her eyes, he finds that her smile has reached all the way into her hazels, warming them. With a muted growl, Spike steps closer, yanking her against him. Buffy's legs snake around his hips, rubbing up and down. Her hand goes back to stroking lightly as the other pushes on his loosened jeans.   
  
Spike slides a hand between them, rubbing lightly at her folds, amazed at how wet she is. Of course, she always gets aroused after a good fight. He's known that for years. Just never got to be on the receiving end until very recently. Well, receiving end of the fight, sure, just not this part. His thumb circles slowly, lightly grazing, feeling Buffy stiffen every time. His index finger seeks the center of her warmth, sliding in slowly. He feels the pace of her hand quicken along with her heartbeat. A second finger and then a third join the first, sliding in and out of her tight channel at the same pace as she strokes him. Spike leans forward, his mouth finding her neck. Planting soft, open-mouth kisses, he teases her skin. Buffy leans into him as well, her breaths short and hot against his bare chest. Her tongue dances out to trace around a nipple before lightly nipping at it. He flinches slightly, and feels himself go even harder than he thought possible. Buffy's hand releases him, and both hands slides up the contours of his chest before meeting at the nape of his neck, just the fingertips pushing into his hair. She kisses over his chest, leaving little nips all over it as she moves up to his neck. Spike strains to keep stroking in and out of her with his hand. He feels her body start to tighten on his hand, her breathing fast and erratic.   
  
"Oh god, Spike. Oh god!" She pants out the words, fingers digging into the back of his neck. Her mouth reaches up for his, moist warm lips pressing into his. He stops teasing and begins pressing his thumb into her hard on each entrance. Buffy's entire body feels like it is on fire as she comes, the waves of sensation hitting hard and fast. Breaking their kiss, Buffy throws her head back and screams his name at the top of her lungs, her entire body convulsing around his hand. When Spike feels the spasms begin to slow, he tweaks her clit, eliciting a sharp cry from the panting Slayer. She straightens up slightly, her hands still wrapped loosely around his neck. Spike slowly pulls his fingers out from inside her when he is sure she is paying attention. Eyes glazed, cheeks flushed pink, Buffy starts at the sensation of emptiness. She watches Spike's hand move up to his mouth with fascination. He slides his index finger into his mouth, sucking it clean, then follows suit with the other two. Tongue darting out, he licks around them thoroughly. And slowly. Buffy finds herself licking her own lips as he grins at her. Before he can make any kind of comment, he finds herself suddenly pulled against a very sweaty, very aroused Slayer. Her legs grip his hips as one hand grabs the back of his neck and the other his erection.   
  
"Spike. Now. Don't make me get out Mr. Pointy." The threat is hollow, but her grip is firm.   
  
"That's my girl, alright. Knows what she bloody well wants." Spike's hands go to her thighs, spreading them wider. Taking a grip on her hips, Spike lets Buffy guide him to her entrance. Spike leans into a kiss, biting at her bottom lip as he drives into her with one slow and solid thrust. Buffy's squeak is swallowed by their kiss as her still sensitive skin is newly awakened. Over and over, he enters her and she feels it all. His hands, slightly rougher than her own, skating over her skin. The cool night air, lightly scented with grass and some night blooming flower. The moonlight, illuminating them, illuminating him without any warmth. The hushed sound of skin against skin, of far off cicadas. With a sudden rush, Buffy is pulled away from the sounds and sensations beyond them, her focus narrowed to just him. Filling her completely, physically and in other ways she did not dare consider. His mouth tastes hers and she tries to memorize the dance of his tongue, the way he traces her lips lightly before thrusting inside. The pressure of his lips to hers, building as their coupling intensifies. The sensations are acute almost to the point of pain. Her heart aches, her body throbs, her skin burns. All for him.   
  
"Spike. Oh, Spike. I do love you." Her mouth is next to his ear, her voice soft and breathy, tickling his skin. He almost stops completely at her unexpected declaration. No matter how many times she declares her love, he never gets tired of hearing it or surprised at how true it is, how good it feels. She moves back to meet his eyes.   
  
"Buffy, love, you are the only one for me. I love you, too." His smile is not as cocky as usual, hers in return is somewhat tremulous. Neither one is willing to dance near the topic that weighs on them both. Tomorrow night and the fate of their love.   
  
Buffy tightens her legs against him, reminding Spike of their current situation. "Didn't mean to stop, though, sweetie." Her successful attempt at levity draws them back to the moment at hand.   
  
Spike renews his pace, picking up where they left off after grinning down at her. His hands slide up to release her breasts from the slip of a bra she was wearing. He catches one nipple in his mouth, causing Buffy to twitch, moaning softly. The other nipple goes hard at the cold and the sensation. As Spike thrusts harder, he kisses across her breasts and up along her collarbone. He splays one hand across her back, holding her to him as he drives home over and over. He starts to feel his impending climax, wishing he could hold it off longer. But her effect on him is so overwhelming, so intense, he's lucky he doesn't come every time she looks at him. His other hand goes between them, lightly tweaking her in time with the thrusts.   
  
Just when Buffy thinks she can't feel anything more intense, she feels his hands between her legs again. Her whole body lifts off the stone, arching against him, hard, driving him even deeper and clenching it with her inner walls. Spike growls and leans into her, pushing Buffy's back down and against the cold stone. Her skin just about hisses on contact. Spike's hands come down on either side of her, his burning eyes pinning her to the surface. Harder and faster, he thrusts, nailing her sensitive bundle of nerves every time until she wants to scream from the strength of the feeling. Scream to stop before she bursts and scream to please never ever stop. Instead, she just screams as she comes again, the furious reaction sending Spike through to his climax with a guttural growl. They move together for several moments afterwards, their bodies clinging, their skin hot and slick.   
  
Buffy sits up, wrapping her arms around her lover with all the strength she can muster in her boneless state. Murmuring her name over and over, Spike plants light kisses over her shoulders.   
  
And in that position, naked and sweaty, sated and tender, the Slayer and the vampire fall just a bit harder in love and each wish fervently that this particular night would never end.   
  
*****************  
  
Author's Note: Sorry for the longer delay on this chapter, folks. As some of you may know, I've posted a new fic: Life Serial Revisited, which has distracted me from this one briefly! I'll try to bounce back and forth and not create huge delays. Thanks for reading and reviewing! -Tiana :) 


	40. Chapter 40: In the Wee Small Hours

*****  
  
Chapter 40: In the Wee Small Hours  
  
*****  
  
Spike feels Buffy tremble in his arms and curses at himself. Of course he's not cold, but his Slayer is freezing. Lifting his head from the crook of her shoulder, he makes eye contact. The words die in his mouth as he sees she was not trembling from cold, but because she's crying. It almost did him in when she cried earlier tonight and this is much worse. Before he can speak, she blinks at him, her hazel eyes glistening in the moonlight. "I'm okay, Spike." She brings up a hand to wipe roughly at her eyes, sniffling a little.   
  
"No, you're bloody well not. What is it? Did I hurt you, love?" Spike's chest constricts at the thought. He never wants to hurt her, not since he fell for her.   
  
"Oh no no…you didn't hurt me." The tears keep dropping at an alarming rate and Spike steps back, clasping her upper arms.   
  
"Then what?" Spike rubs her arms lightly, trying to soothe her.   
  
"I just…I just…it feels so right. Here with you…I just can't do it. I can't do it."  
  
Spike grins and lifts his eyebrows suggestively. "Well, we can wait a little while, pet."   
  
Buffy half-laughs, half-sobs at his joke, slapping feebly at his chest. "Not that…" She looks up at him, her hand still laying on his still chest, right where his heart is. For just a moment, she wonders at the love of a man with no beating heart. "I can't love like this…" During the pause she takes, Spike's thoughts race, wondering where she is going with this. "…and then lose you. I just don't know that I can do it." Her cheeks tracked with tears, Spike feels his heart crack nearly in half. He can't do it, either. How could he possibly leave her?  
  
He drags his thumbs down her cheeks, swiping at the moisture there. Leaning forward, he kisses at the salty tears lightly.   
  
"Buffy. We've both been through…love and loss." Spike's jaw clenches involuntarily at the thought of his grandsire with the woman in his arms, but moves past the thought quickly. She did love the poof. And now, more importantly, she loves him. And of course, there was him and Dru. Well, a long long time together is hard to get over. Every time he looks down at the petite blond crying in his arms, he has a hard time even picturing Drusilla in his mind's eye. His love for Buffy has moved in and shoved the old out of the way. "Doesn't make this any soddin' easier, though. Harder, maybe. But you're forgetting one important thing." Spike lifts her chin with his index finger, eyes diving into hers. "I don't have plans to leave. Some dusty book in the Watcher's house says I might be leavin'…but that doesn't mean I have to. I'm not giving up that easy. Been around a long time and would like to keep my record going." He kisses her gently on the mouth. "So, let's not start talking of me in the past tense yet, eh, love?" His eyes twinkle and Buffy finds herself smiling at him, despite the knot of despair in her stomach.  
  
"You're right, Spike. I'm sorry to be so negative. It's just the Slayer gig tends to come with a lot of death and loss and…I'm tired of it. I just got be in these arms and I like it here, dammit." She wraps her arms around Spike and squeezes, hard. "Let's go home, 'kay? I'm done fighting for tonight. Gotta save my strength for tomorrow." Unspoken is their need to simply be together as much as possible until tomorrow, come what may.  
  
"You know you're not to interfere with whatever happens tomorrow night, pet."  
  
"I'll need strength no matter what, Spike." He lets her words hang in the air, feels a cool breeze skate across their naked bodies. This time her shiver is of the cold variety.  
  
"Right. Home, then?" She nods. They get dressed slowly, watching each other. Finally, Spike reaches his hand out. Buffy moves forward and takes it, lacing her fingers in his, gripping as if she will never let go.   
  
Without a word, they turn for her house in step, hand in hand. Both see the change in the sky, heralding the coming day. A day they would like to hold away as long as possible.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
As they enter the house, Buffy notices a light blinking on the answering machine. Her brow knits for a second. "Oh my god!"   
  
Spike jumps. "What is it?"  
  
"My mom!" Buffy drops his hand and darts over to the machine.   
  
"Thought your mum was out of town?" Spike looks around, confused.   
  
"She was supposed to be back tonight. I completely forgot!" Buffy hits the button on the machine and her Mom's voice plays to her. Her face starts to relax as her Mom explains she won't be home tonight after all. She's extended her trip through the weekend. Buffy flops on the chair in relief, smiling up at Spike.   
  
"So, we've still got the place to ourselves, right?" Buffy nods. "I'm pretty distracting, am I?" Buffy nods again. "Made you forget your own mum."   
  
Buffy stands up and walks up to Spike, lightly pressing her body against his. "Hell, you made me forget my own name a few times."  
  
Spike's tongue presses against his front teeth, mouth open slightly as he returns the full body pressure Buffy applied. "That so, love?"   
  
She nods and then throws her head towards the stairs. "Wanna try again?"   
  
"What happened to saving your strength?" Buffy grinds against him once, hard, her answer in every movement. Feeling the quickly building bulge in his pants, she quirks an eyebrow in approval. Then she turns and darts for the stairs. She gets about halfway up before Spike reaches her. They go down in a heap on the stairs, Spike cradling her head in his hand, pressing them together below the waist. Buffy gasps as he dives for her neck, the kisses fast and rough. She's drawn the predator out in him, something he confirms with a low growl. Her heart flutters like a rabbit caught in a trap, excited and aroused by his completely successful attempt at distracting her. The way her body sings out in response to his drowns out all other thoughts quite nicely.  
  
"God, Slayer, you are delicious." Spike travels up her neck to her jawline, finally reaching her mouth. The kiss is intense and when Spike finally breaks it, Buffy is gasping for air. Her pink lips parted, cheeks crimson, eyes dilated, she is pure sex, pure arousal and Spike has to have her, has to ravish her further.  
  
"Let's go, Spike." Her hand has found its way between his legs and gives his throbbing erection a gentle, but firm squeeze. Spike growls in response before standing up and over her. Sprawled out on the stairs, clothes disheveled, hair splayed across the steps, he can't help but think he is one lucky bloke.   
  
Buffy looks up at him, hair mussed, shirt half off (did she do that?) so that his alabaster skin teases her with a glimpse, chest heaving despite his undead state and thinks just one word.   
  
Mine.   
  
She's on her feet in a flash, a few steps above him so she can see him eye to eye. Her arm shoots out, hooking him around the neck, holding his gaze. She pulls, a little hard, and Spike nearly loses his balance. Baby wants to play. The smirk that spreads across his face is so damn dirty Buffy nearly loses her train of thought. A glance down his body brings her right back on track, however. Her mouth captures his, leaning into his body, nearly sending them tumbling down the stairs. Spike fights back, driving Buffy backwards up the stairs. They twist and turn around the upstairs hallways, hands grabbing, lips attacking, crashing into furniture and walls before landing in a tangled mess of clothes and limbs on her bedroom floor. In the fury of claiming and tasting and just plain old having, the undercurrent is bittersweet. Their lovemaking is invested with a fatalism that neither can fully deny and both have to bite back the tears as they come together once again.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Psyche's sigh echoes off the walls of the marble bedchamber. "Any ideas yet, dear?" Cupid's shoulders are tense, most unlike the carefree god, as he paces to and fro. "Sweetheart?"   
  
His head jerks up as he comes to a stop. "Yes, my sweet?"  
  
She smiles sadly at him. "Any ideas?"   
  
He frowns, wrinkles creasing his handsome face. "No, I'm afraid not. I would like to intervene on behalf of the vampire, but I cannot see how. Not yet. His fate…it is not my power. His love, well, that has been seen to." He presses his lips together in a tight thin line and resumes walking. "I will continue to think about it…"  
  
Eyes sadder than ever, Psyche turns back to the view below and the lovemaking that has transitioned from frenzied to tender. Her heart aches at the sight.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Damn it." Giles swears softly under his breath as he whips his glasses off and rubs his eyes furiously. A glance to the window shows the sky starting to turn pink with impending sunrise. The numerous books on his table are opened, pages marked with scraps of paper and scribbled theories. The lines of fatigue and worry on his face tell the story. That he has come no closer to saving Spike in his hours of additional research. He sees Buffy's worried face in his mind's eye and it only renews his frustration. Rubbing his eyes one last time, he replaces his glasses and heads to the kitchen. A cup of tea may help to clear the fog in his brain. He is not going to give up on his charge's chance at happiness after just a few hours. His Slayer deserves it and he will give it to her. If he only bloody well can.  
  
****************  
  
Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in updating this fic. Been working on a new one (Life Serial Revisited). And now I'm off for the holidays, so look for a new chappy in the new year! Thanks for reviewing! -Tiana :) 


	41. Chapter 41: Good Morning

*****  
  
Chapter 41: Good Morning  
  
*****  
  
Buffy lies very very still. She knows the slightest movement could wake Spike and she would like to keep him asleep a little longer. Finally exhausted by both fear and a large amount of sex, they both dropped off for some much needed sleep before dawn. Only her sleep was filled with ominous nightmares and fitful tossing, so Buffy gave up. She looks at her love, sleeping the sleep of the dead. Or undead. No nightmares appear to plague him. Her head turned to face him on the same pillow, Buffy studies his features in their relaxed state. Not the first time she's done this, and she really hopes it is not the last.  
  
She looks him over thoroughly, trying somehow to detect evidence that he has been alive for over a hundred years. She can't find any. She just sees the mouth she now knows so well, the sharp curve of his cheekbone, the strong line of his nose, the stretch of lashes brushing his cheek. Buffy bites back a sigh. God, he is beautiful. And he is hers.   
  
Now, to the question of the hour. How is she going to keep him? Meaning, how is she going to keep him from doing something heroic and sacrificing himself for her, for the rest of the humans on the planet? It figures that falling in love with her would be the very thing that could bring him to the end of this long long existence. Giles should call her this morning. Let her know what they found last night, whether he has any new ideas. The thought of that phone call fills her with a sense of both dread and hope at the same time. Her train of thought is interrupted by the stirring of her lover. Sleepy blue eyes meet hers in question and she ventures a smile at him before planting a good morning kiss on his lips.   
  
After a few false starts, Buffy and Spike end up in the kitchen, with Buffy insisting that she needed some sustenance beyond sex. Buffy pokes in the refrigerator and the cupboard for breakfast fare. Spike lounges against the island, watching her. His eyes travel down her slender body, the curves of her back, hips and legs obvious through the thin robe. She turns to ask him a question and catches the hungry look in his eyes.   
  
"Uh-uh! Buffy is getting to eat something today, mister. Some food. Human food. Like eggs and bacon and toast. And juice. Oh, and coffee." She deposits the items she has gathered from the cabinet to make breakfast.  
  
Spike arches his eyebrows at her long list. "And love, do you know how to make any of those things?"   
  
Buffy sputters in indignation. "Of course! I am quite capable of…" She looks at the raw ingredients piled up on the island, brow knitting. "…juice. I'm excellent with juice." Her megawatt smile makes Spike shake his head, chuckling.   
  
"Let me show you how this is done, pet. Take that lovely bum of yours and sit it down." Spike stands up, stretching his clasped hands in front of him before cracking his neck first to the right and then to the left. Licking her lips in approval, Buffy perches on the edge of the stool at the island to watch Spike at work. He goes to the kitchen window first, closing the blinds to protect himself from the bright morning sun. He begins to sort the ingredients and then stops to take stock. Spike turns back to the refrigerator, returning with a few more items, including ham and green onions. Seeing Buffy's confused face, Spike says, "Omelets."  
  
Buffy nods, deciding to hide the fact that she had no idea people made omelets themselves at home. She thought they were pretty much 'restaurant food.' She puts her elbows on the island and props her chin on her hands. Spike is full of surprises.   
  
"So, you cook?"   
  
"Yes." Spike's bare back is turned to Buffy as he gathers skillets from the cabinet under the stove. She's so glad he neglected to put on a shirt.   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Don't need food, doesn't mean I don't like it, Slayer." He turns back to her, smirk in place. "I know what tastes good, you know." The expression on his face is positively lascivious and Buffy feels a pink blush spread on her cheeks.   
  
Mission accomplished, Spike starts chopping various ingredients and preparing breakfast with a skill clearly honed over many years. Never before exposed to this domestic side of the blond vampire, Buffy is not sure what to do. She decides watching is a good thing, as he looks incredibly hot beating eggs half naked. Of course, he looks incredibly hot doing anything, but this is new. Plus, she is going to get fed.   
  
"Toast!" Spike looks at Buffy quizzically after her outburst. Her next words are a bit quieter. "I'm also good with toast."   
  
"Juice and toast. It's a wonder you have the strength to slay, pet."   
  
"I've got strength for lots of things, so hush and make me some food, cutie." She giggles and sits back as Spike turns back to his task, a smile playing across his face, eyes dancing with mirth.   
  
Buffy smiles at him as he moves back and forth between the island and the stove, hands moving deftly and quickly. Raw ingredients quickly turn into final products and the scents filling the kitchen are heavenly. Spike gets the coffee percolating, adding one more heady scent to the mix. Buffy's stomach growls in anticipation and Spike laughs under his breath.   
  
Eyes following his every move as he brings together the meal, Buffy feels a warmth towards Spike of the most tender kind. Yes, she loves him madly. But it turns out she also likes him. Sitting here with him, doing the most domestic and everyday of things - and she is blissfully happy. The nagging doubt of what tomorrow morning will bring is temporarily blocked by her enjoyment of this very moment. They are acting like an old married couple. The rightness of it and the way she easily slides into the role with him should surprise her, but it just feels so good, she can't be bothered.  
  
Spike realizes the Slayer has fallen quiet in the last few minutes. He turns from his position at the stove to see her gaze on him, but with a sort of faraway look in her eyes. He doesn't realize she is picturing what their kids would be like if they could only have any. Her eyes come back into focus, seeing him clearly again. Spike smiles at her, just a little, as something unspoken but profound passes between them over orange juice and broken egg shells. Hearing the bacon sizzling on the stove snaps Spike out of it and he turns back to the stove, spell broken.   
  
Without his glacier blue eyes on her, Buffy realizes her heart is pounding. The last few days have sent her mind reeling over and over. From hating Spike to craving Spike to truly madly loving Spike and now…and now she thinks of him in the same sentence as forever? As marriage? And god, she's happy. In the next breath, hot tears sting her eyes. The prophecy.  
  
"Dammit." Unaware she has spoken aloud, Buffy is surprised to hear Spike answer her while still pushing the crisping bacon around the pan.   
  
"What's wrong, pet?" His voice is casual, so Buffy fights down the fear churning in her empty stomach. Her perfect vision may be shattered, but he doesn't have to know it.  
  
"It's just that I'm so hungry…" With a quiet grace bred from years of slaying, Buffy slips from her chair and comes up behind Spike.   
  
"No worries, love, food's just about ready…and you are not talking about food." Spike's first clue is Buffy's mouth against his back, moist and warm. To his credit, he doesn't even jump, just hesitates a little in the flipping of a strip of bacon. She presses her lips against his shoulder blade before sliding all the way behind him. Buffy lets her hands come around and slide down his chest, skating lightly over the sculpted muscle before coming to rest with her thumbs hooked in his waistband. Standing on her tiptoes, Buffy nips at Spike's earlobe with her blunt teeth.   
  
"See, I'm just starving, Spikey. Can't help it." Her tongue dances over the lobe as her hot breath lights up his skin. Spike drops the spatula in the skillet with a low moan as Buffy's nimble fingers start to undo the front of his jeans.   
  
"Slayer, your breakfast is going to get cold." Spike's protest is very half-hearted. Maybe more like a quarter-hearted. Buffy's hands continue exploring, her warm fingers dancing around Spike's rapidly swelling cock.   
  
"Nuh-uh." Buffy withdraws from Spike, eliciting a sound of protest. She hops up on the island behind him, legs dangling. He turns to scold her and finds that she is wearing the most delightful grin, mischief making her green eyes spark. "Feed me." Tilting her head to the side, Buffy is coy and playful, something Spike cannot resist.   
  
"Yeah?" She nods and Spike grabs the plate he was preparing for her, dipping into the skillet to add the bacon. Turning off the oven, he turns and places her plate on the island next to her. Buffy looks down at the fluffy omelet, golden toast and crispy bacon and her smile widens.   
  
"Oh, Spike, you are the best. My vamp of many talents." Catching his face between her hands, Buffy pulls him closer, capturing his mouth with hers. Spike's hands slide around her hips, tightening on the pale blue silk of her robe. He pauses before moving his hands a bit more, seeming to confirm something. The kiss breaks with a giggle from Buffy. She keeps their lips grazing, breathing warm on his face. Spike murmurs, "Completely naked under this scrap, aren't you?"   
  
Buffy's only answer is another kiss, this one more demanding, tongue taking control of his with authority. Her legs come up slowly to wrap around his hips, ankles locking, bringing him into her circle, closer to her core and the warmth emanating in waves. Out of breath, Buffy pulls back from the kiss first, cheeks flushed prettily. Moments later, a forkful of omelet appears before her. Opening her mouth, she locks her eyes into Spike's as he slides the fork into her mouth. Taking the bite slowly off the tines, Buffy moans in appreciation, eyes closing briefly as she licks her lips. Spike wonders if just watching the Slayer eat is going to make him come in his pants.   
  
"You like it, then?" He smirks, knowing the answer.  
  
"Mmm. God, it's delicious, Spike." She swallows and looks at him expectantly. "More, more."   
  
"So bloody demanding." But he loves it, she can tell. He is getting off on this scene of domestic bliss as much as she is. Next is a piece of bacon, which Buffy bites off happily. Her entire body displays her approval and Spike wonders if she realizes her arousal is like a sledgehammer to his head. He strains to remain focused even as the heavenly scent teases him and her legs rub up and down his hips. She strains forward for the next bite, letting her robe fall open and he catches a glimpse of her tempting breasts. And so it goes, Buffy eating and teasing and moaning while Spike feeds her and concentrates on not losing control before she's had her fill.   
  
She licks her lips after the last bite of omelet and Spike finds himself watching her tongue dart out, leaving her full lips lush and moist. It's almost the last straw.   
  
"Slayer." Buffy pretends not to hear the strain in his voice, not to notice the tightly corded muscles in his neck and the most prominent bulge in his half undone jeans. Instead, she takes his hand in hers and begins to methodically lick each finger, almost cat-like in her thoroughness. She pulls the index finger into her mouth, drawing in her cheeks and Spike's eyes roll back in his head. This has officially and completely crossed the line from fun with food to Torture Spike. Withdrawing his finger from her mouth, Buffy suddenly tightens her legs, pulling him abruptly against her. Her superheated core is against the straining fabric of his jeans and he can feel the heat right through the denim.   
  
She pushes her bottom lip out in a mock pout. Her left hand flattens against his abs and slides down into his loosened jeans without warning, finding her target like a heat-seeking missile. "Still hungry, Spike." With a broad sweep of both his arms, Spike knocks all the dishes to the floor from the island with a crash. In the next moment, Buffy's back is on the countertop and she has one incredibly aroused vampire over her, chest heaving with his unneeded breath. And through it all, she keeps one hand on his cock.   
  
"Not full, eh?" Spike arches his eyebrows as he marvels at her.  
  
"Not yet." Up and down her hand goes, making him harder and harder under her attention. "Think you can help out?"  
  
"I believe something can be arranged…" Spike, holding his weight off Buffy with one hand planted by her head, uses the other to tease open her robe. Her golden body is exposed to his hungry gaze, completely bare and incredibly inviting. The fingers ghost over her cheek before tracing down her neck, out over her collarbone and down between her breasts. "So so beautiful, love." She sees the flicker in his eyes from blue to gold and she wonders if he knows it is happening. The idea that his craving for her is akin to a bloodlust does not disturb her as it might have another time. It seems to fit the way they feel. The desire is fierce, relentless, and the fact that he is fighting for control only shows how deep the emotions run, how thoroughly they are connected to each other. Moments later, his eyes, all blue now, light on her with tenderness and she remembers why this is so good. Because she gets both. She gets the battle, the tussle between equals as well as the attentions of a careful lover.   
  
Their movements switch to languid now instead of frantic. Hands tangled into her hair, Spike finally positions himself at her entrance. He plants light kisses across her face, ending his journey at her mouth. Buffy's fingers scrape down his strong back, encouraging him to continue. As Spike thrusts into her while they are still kissing, Buffy moans against his mouth, the vibration setting them both off. Spike's kiss grows in intensity, teeth nipping at her tongue, lips pressing harder. Buffy arches her body into his at the sharp sensation, accelerating his slow thrust in one sharp move. She cries out at the depth of his cock inside her, the fullness startling but not unpleasant. Holding that position against him, she clasps the back of his neck with one hand, refusing to end the kiss. Finally, she lets her rear come back to the island surface and Spike follows, remaining buried in her to the hilt. He nibbles her bottom lip as she loosens her grip on the nape of his neck. The kisses move along her jawline, dancing over the healed pink marks on her neck from their previous encounters. Exquisitely sensitive, touching the skin around the punctures makes Buffy jump. Spike moves to the other side of her neck his mouth going over her old scars from Angel and the Master without the same effect. It was no accident that he chose to bite her on the other side. Not interested in sharing, particularly not with Peaches.   
  
Convinced he will not come on his next move, Spike pulls back and thrusts into Buffy slowly, but forcefully. He lifts her off the counter just slightly with every drive and she gasps in pleasure. Taking one nipple in his mouth, Spike rolls it roughly over his tongue, hardening it instantly. Repeating this treatment on the other breast leaves Buffy panting slightly, her breaths short and fast. Arching her hips to meet his, each and every thrust hits her clit directly and Buffy wonders if she will black out when this orgasm hits. Feeling the pressure building, Buffy buries her face in his neck, the platinum curls tickling her nose. Body trembling from the force of their lovemaking, she manages to whisper to him, "I love you, Spike. More than ever. Love you more than I thought I could love…"   
  
The last bit is what gets him. Spike comes with the force of a freight train, a roar that bounces off the kitchen walls announcing his arrival. Knowing she is close, feeling her muscles twitch, Spike manages a few more thrusts, sending the shockwaves pulsing through Buffy's body as she comes in a rush of pleasure and intense sensation. He collapses on her, forgetting that he did not want to put all his weight on her. She wraps arms and legs tight around him in a gesture that indicates she doesn't mind.   
  
Mouth against her ear, Spike murmurs, "Love you, Buffy. God, I do love you."  
  
  
  
Moments later, a jarring sound rouses them both from their post-coital bliss. Buffy's heart jumps into her throat as she identifies the sound and reality crashes back in around her. The phone. Giles. Oh god.   
  
*************  
  
Author's Note: Sorry for the loooong delay. Between the flu and traveling for the holidays and another fic I'm working on, it couldn't be helped! Hope you all enjoy and leave reviews. :)   
  
Edited to add: There is a problem occurring where if you have reviewed this fic before, you can not submit another review. Until it is fixed, I would LOVE to hear your comments via e-mail at tianabelle@hotmail.com Thanks! -Ti 


	42. Chapter 42: Counting Down

*****  
  
Chapter 42: Counting Down  
  
*****  
  
The phone continues to ring as both Slayer and vampire sit straight up. Spike moves first, rolling off the island and snatching the phone off the hook.  
  
"'ello?" The sound of sputtering and mumbling greets Spike. A smile touches his face. "Mornin', Rupert. Were you trying to reach Buffy?"   
  
Giles recovers enough to finally answer. He knows those two are in love, but this evidence of their intimacy is still disconcerting. Like walking in on his only daughter making out on the couch with her boyfriend. Only he's sure they were doing more than making out. "Um, yes, uh…hello, Spike. Indeed, ah, could I speak with her?"   
  
Without answering, Spike holds the phone out to his blonde love. "Your Watcher, pet." The smile is still there and she can't help meeting it with a small one of her own as she stands up and takes the phone. Giles must be mortified.  
  
"Giles? It's me." Buffy pauses as Giles gathers himself. He must have realized she is potentially naked at this very moment. And she is.   
  
"Yes, hello, Buffy. Well, I've found another transcription of the prophecy in ancient Sumerian and it's…the thing is, there is more than one way to interpret it and I'm not sure which is correct."  
  
Buffy closes her eyes, her heart beating erratically. She strains for calm. "Is the other interpretation better than the first or are we still in the doom and gloom arena?"  
  
Spike pays close attention to the inaudible signals Buffy is giving off. Her current scent is wildly familiar to him, but not in a good way. Fear. A smell he knows all too well. There was a time in the not too distant past that Spike would have relished the stale scent of fear coming off the Slayer. Now, it just makes him hurt. He comes to her side, wrapping his arms around her waist lightly. She shivers, biting her lip before looking over her shoulder at him. Spike tries not to flinch at the worry present in her eyes.  
  
"Well, again, Buffy, it is difficult to say. It would be better if you could come over here. There is more work to be done and the more help the better the chances of…um, the better the chances."  
  
Buffy feels her chest tighten at what is left unsaid. Now, she is torn between getting to spend today with her love with this horrible burden hanging over them or to go to Giles' apartment for dusty research. Only the research could help save her love. Oh, damn. It's a vicious cycle.   
  
"We should go, love." Spike's voice in her ear is soft and low and it sends tendrils of warmth down her spine. Clearly, he can hear the conversation.   
  
Buffy stands very still, staring blankly ahead, wishing for the thousandth time that she was not the Slayer. Wishing that she was a normal girl with a normal boyfriend, doing normal things. As quickly as it came, the moment passes and she is thrust back into her real world by Giles clearing his throat. And she remembers the thrill of the hunt and the fierce pride she feels protecting the world and the cool, strong hands of her anything but normal boyfriend. This is the life she wants to save. Her life…and his. His existence is too precious to her now.   
  
"We'll be there soon, Giles. Keep working, okay?" Buffy moves the phone to the receiver even as Giles answers and lets it slide down with a click. Hand steady on the handset, she doesn't move for a few seconds. A shudder runs through her.   
  
Spike leans his head down, chin resting on her shoulder. The quiet extends, the low hum of the refrigerator the only sound in the kitchen. Buffy's hand moves to slide up Spike's cheek and he leans slightly into the warm touch.   
  
"Why can't we stay right here, Spike?" Her voice is quiet with a slight tremor running through it. "Just ignore it all and hide here?" Buffy pulls away and turns around to look up at him. Tears tremble on the edge of her eyelids.  
  
Spike cocks his head, looking down at his Slayer with quiet blue eyes. Calm beyond reason in the face of his existence being so threatened. He reaches out to tuck a loose bit of hair behind her ear. "You know we can't, Buffy." The first few tears roll down Buffy's cheeks. She nods, wiping them away and struggling for the brave face that has escaped her. "Let's nip upstairs for a shower, eh, love? Rupert's waitin' on us." Buffy looks up at this Spike. The strong one, the one that takes care of her. Loves him just as much as every other face he has shown her.  
  
She nods again and follows him upstairs. Already undressed, they go straight into the bathroom and Spike leans over to turn on the hot water. Buffy stands very still in the small space, feeling tiny and fragile, arms wrapped tight around her. The room begins to steam almost instantly, but she still feels cold.   
  
Spike turns back to her and is struck by a sharp pain and a need to give comfort to this lost girl in front of him. He pulls her into his arms and she lets out one soft sob into his chest. She feels his back tense.   
  
"That's enough, love. I won't have it. Have you forgotten what I told you last night?" Buffy pulls back at the low serious tone from Spike and lifts her eyes to meet his firm gaze. "I won't have you mourn me while I stand right in front of you. Do you understand? This prophecy could be complete bollocks, for all we know. Am I right?" His expression borders on anger and Buffy stiffens slightly.  
  
Buffy sniffs. "Yeah."   
  
"Come on, that's not too convincing."  
  
Wiping her eyes, Buffy stands up a little straighter, leveling her hazel eyes on his. "Yes."   
  
"And I've lived a bloody long time, haven't I?"  
  
"Yes." Her voice gains a little strength.  
  
"I'm a survivor, always have been." Spike takes Buffy firmly by the chin, staring deep into her eyes with a focus she has only seen on the hunt. "So, don't count me out, got it?"   
  
Buffy swallows. "Got it."   
  
With that, Spike's voice softens slightly. "You'll just have to trust me, pet. I'm going to try and be a hero. It's a new thing for me, y'know? Think I'd be nervous as all hell, but I only have to do one thing to know how to be one."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Just look at you. Been watching you in action for years. You're the strongest person I've ever known. Not just strong in your fighting, but here. Where it really matters." Spike's hand rests over Buffy's pounding heart, pressing firmly into her skin until he can count the beats. "Your heart, your spirit. It's what made me want to fight you. It's what makes me want to love you." He pauses. "It's what makes you."  
  
A surge of love courses through Buffy as she looks at Spike. Her mouth opens as she tries to find the words. Stumped, Buffy moves closer and Spike circles her with his arms. She leans into him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. Her breath is hot against his neck and she whispers, "You're part of me now, Spike. Part of what makes me." Spike closes his eyes and holds her a little tighter. Buffy's heart beats hard against his chest as he takes in her words. Nobody has made him feel like trying this hard in so many years. Trying to find the right path. That he could even want to do right is beyond belief. His only reply is a light kiss to the top of her forehead as Spike continues to hold her tightly.   
  
They stay just that way for a few minutes. Slayer gaining strength from the vampire as he draws it from her in turn. Spike's hands run lightly up and down her back, fingertips dancing over smooth warm skin. Buffy's fingers clutch his upper arms, feeling the tight muscles twitch. She could live and die in this moment, but knows the next one is pushing for its turn. With a sigh, Buffy turns toward the shower, pulling him with her.   
  
After adjusting the temperature, Buffy steps in and under the stream of hot water. Eyes closed, she lets the water run over her, feeling the trail of heat down her body. Spike stands just outside the water, looking at her with a heat of his own. Her skin superheated, Buffy finally opens her eyes to find Spike watching her. Cheeks pink and skin hot to the touch, she grabs Spike by the hand and pulls him into the water. Spike flinches slightly at the warmth of her hands and the stream of water. As his body melts into hers, they feel themselves relax, muscles loosening, skin coming to life.   
  
With movements both slow and intense, they take turns washing each other's bodies. Soapy hot water runs in rivulets over curves and hard planes, washing away tears and worry, scalding away fear. They let themselves fall into the moment, water leaving them fresh and new.   
  
Body freshly scrubbed and glowing, Buffy lets her hands trail down Spike's chest, following the water on its path. Spike raises an eyebrow as her hands travel lower and lower. She leans in for a wet kiss right as her hands reach his cock, grasping gently, rubbing lightly. His moan is lost in her mouth as he feels his erection begin to grow. His entire body is warm from the steam of the shower and Buffy marvels at how he feels in her hands. Almost living. For just a moment, he is human in her arms. She's not sure what to make of it. One hand still in place, she pulls away enough to meet his gaze. Blond curls falling every which way, face slightly flushed, eyes crystal blue, he is breathtaking.   
  
"What is it, love?" Spike cups one of her breasts in his hand as he moves forward to nuzzle her neck, water pouring over them.   
  
"Nothing, you just feel different. Warm."   
  
"Like it?" His nuzzle turns into nibbles and Buffy slaps her left hand flat on the wall to hold herself steady. Her right hand continues working its magic down below.   
  
"Mmm-hmm. Just different. I like you at any temperature. All-temperature Spike." She grins lightly, losing herself in the pleasure of a shower with her boyfriend. Her currently warm and nearly human boyfriend.   
  
For a fleeting moment, Spike wonders what it would be like to be human. Wonders if that's what Buffy really wants, really needs. Her voice was a little…yearning? He knows she loves him like he is, but he can't help think her life would be easier if he, well, had one. He sighs.  
  
"What's the matter, Spike?" Buffy pauses when she hears him. Spike realizes these kinds of thoughts are the last thing either one of them need to deal with at the moment. Bigger fish to fry.  
  
"Nothing, pet. Not one thing." As his eyes rake up and down her naked form, Buffy feels her blood rush up to her face and down between her legs at the same time. With just a look, he makes her wetter than the shower ever could. In the next moment, Buffy feels cold tile pressing against her bare back and a warm Spike between her legs. The worries in their heads run off their entwined bodies like so much water and they stay there until the shower runs cold.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Later that afternoon, a grim-faced Slayer and a brassed-off vampire storm back into the Summers home.   
  
"That was it? I spent the whole day locked away in that dim, dusty apartment to find out that there is still NOTHING we can do about it?" Buffy spins on Spike, eyes flashing dangerously, only to meet the same expression in deep dark blue. He picks up where she left off.   
  
"Goddamn bloody right, Buffy! What a bleedin' waste of time. Still gonna die tonight and all the flowery language in the world won't stop it! Can't believe he kept us there for nothing." Spike whips off his duster in a fury and flings it on the couch. Spinning around to continue his tirade, he doesn't see Buffy at first. Then he notices the small form sitting on the stairs. Crumpled, more like. Head in her hands, little shoulders shaking in all too familiar posture. "Oh, balls. Buffy, love, I'm sorry. I shot my mouth off, it's what I do. There's still a chance. There's still time, pet. Please, stop." He crouches down in front of her, hands on her knees, face pleading.   
  
But she is gone, Buffy is lost. Awash. Finally, she lifts her face, sodden and flushed. Still trembling. "Oh but Spike, it's true. I let myself hope all day and it was for nothing. Nothing. Stupid Sumerian version of the prophecy didn't help. Just said things in a different order, different words. Same message."  
  
Shattered by the vision in front of him, Spike softens instantly, his voice goes gentle. "Watcher was trying to help, pet." He brushes her hair from her face with both hands. "Can't help it if he couldn't find the answer. There may not be one." Spike remembers the naked anguish on Giles' face when they left. The scent of failure stale in the air. The fact that he let them go only made the two of them despair further. Mere hours before the pre-destined events and they were no closer to an answer that saved Spike than they were last night. Despite hours of full Scooby (plus Spike) research. Research of the most tedious kind, scouring book after book of prophecy. Cross-checking every term in the original prophecy. Translating, analyzing…and nothing.   
  
Buffy digs into her jacket pocket and pulls out a crumpled piece of paper. The paper Giles made for her. Smeared black ink scrawls across the page. The prophecy, in plain English.  
  
While Spike watches her with concern, Buffy reads it over and over again. The last line causes the lump in her throat to tighten every time. 'His existence is the price.' She wipes her face on her sleeve and takes a deep breath.   
  
She lifts her face to Spike's, words trapped in her constricted throat, fresh tears trying to fight their way to the surface. Her voice is soft, strained. "It's too high a price, Spike." Spike pulls her from the stairs and into his arms, her next words muffled in his chest.   
  
"Too high."  
  
*****************  
  
Author's Note: Yeah, more delays! Sorry! Thanks for reading and reviewing – it's hugely appreciated. –Tiana :) 


	43. Chapter 43: And So It Begins

*****  
  
Chapter 43: And So It Begins  
  
*****  
  
The next two hours pass in a blur for Spike and Buffy. They circle each other in the house, trying to find a moment's peace and finding none. Buffy tries to eat, but has no appetite. Spike smokes a half dozen cigarettes on the back porch, and every one leaves him unsatisfied, the taste of ashes in his mouth.   
  
Spike leans on the banister on the back porch, not moving when he hears the door quietly open. Warm, soft arms encircle him from behind and he feels the soft thump of the Slayer's head against his back. Bringing his hands up, he covers hers on his chest. They stand there in silence, watching the stars start to wink into view as dusk turns fully into night. There is a slight chill in the air and Spike feels a shiver from Buffy run through him.   
  
"Cold, love?"  
  
Buffy answers by sliding around Spike, facing him. She brings her eyes up to his for a second, but the rawness there is too much for either of them. Buffy closes the small distance between them, snuggling up against his chest, pressing her body against the length of his. Spike encloses her in his arms and Buffy digs into his duster to cover herself. She wants to be as close to him as possible, but neither of them is mentally able to consider anything physical. Just being close is good. Painful, but good.   
  
Buffy presses the side of her face against Spike's black shirt, and her breath washes over the exposed skin of his neck. It sends pulses of warmth through him, making Spike draw her tighter. Buffy breathes in the scent of him, male and comforting. The musk of old leather and smoke fills her.  
  
Spike brings his cheek down to rest on the top of Buffy's head, inhaling deeply. Even at night, she has always smelled like high noon in springtime. Flowers, particularly jasmine, and sunlight. Warm and inviting. Well, to those who are not vampires, of course. She always glows under moonlight, skin luminescent, hair golden, like a bit of daytime trapped in the night. Spike knows why the demons and vampires fear her and it isn't just her devastating drop kick. She embodies the other. The bright light of daytime, of life and goodness. She exposes them to it and they go down screaming, their dark world exposed. It's the very thing that draws him to her. The way you want to touch a flame just to see if it burns. That's the way she burns, the way she lures him to her. All the things he shouldn't have, but really exactly what he wants.   
  
A small sigh breaks Spike from his reverie. Her quiet voice follows. "It's 8:00, Spike."  
  
"Yes, it is." A lump forms in his throat.   
  
"We should go soon. Have to go by Giles' to meet the gang and then head up to Breaker's Woods… It takes awhile to get there and we don't want to be - "  
  
"I know, pet. I know." He squeezes her, knowing she rambles when she's nervous, when she's scared.   
  
A few minutes pass in silence before Spike loosens his grip on Buffy's back. She takes one small step back, to get a good look at him. The moonlight lights his hair silver, and turns his blue eyes nearly black. His face is a study in contrast and the barest smile touches his mouth.   
  
"Buffy." The voice is low and it makes her quiver. It's the sound of someone saying goodbye. His hand comes down to brush her cheek. "No matter what happens tonight…" Buffy sniffs, eyes welling rapidly. "…no, no, don't cry, pet. Be strong. For me. I'm going to need you there by me tonight. We don't know what I'll face. Okay?" She nods, her mind's eye flashing to the nightmare she had about Spike. Forced to relate the bits she could remember to Giles this afternoon, she flinches as she remembers Spike's expression during her description. Resigned, in a way.   
  
Spike wipes her cheeks of tears as quickly as they fall. "There's one thing that won't change no matter what fate throws my way. I love you, Buffy. I'll always love you."   
  
Spike stops, emotion choking him. Buffy shivers. "I love you, Spike. Always. I promise." She leans forward and Spike dips his head down. Eyes sliding closed, Buffy brings her lips to his, soft at first and then more insistent. Spike's hands slide up and under her top, cool skin brushing her warm back. His mouth opens, tongue tracing her lips, which she quickly opens. They fall into each other, mouths searching, tongues tasting, lips pressing. Memorizing the taste, the feel, the sensation that shoots down to their toes with some pit stops along the way. Buffy moans slightly as she slides one hand up into Spike's blond curls, yanking him even closer. Nibbling on his lip, she grows more forceful. Her heat blazes, penetrating his clothes. Spike growls low in his throat, his mouth punishing against hers, crushing and demanding. The insatiable kiss goes on and on, as limbs and hands and bodies blend together on the dark porch.   
  
Finally, with a gasp, Buffy breaks for air. Chest rising and falling quickly, she makes eye contact. "Damn, Spike." Also panting for breath from his force of habit, Spike grins.   
  
"I second that damn, and raise it to a bloody hell, pet." They both feel stronger somehow. The need to shiver and cry is pushed out of Buffy by a fierce need to keep this man. Keep him close. Spike looks down at his bundle of power and strength and realizes he is going to do what he has to tonight to keep her alive. If he can find a way to stay with her, all the better. But he is not going to fail her. Resolve renewed, they move away, clasping hands.   
  
"Let's go." Her jaw is set, eyes sparking.  
  
Spike nods his agreement and they head out.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Are you sure this car can make it to Breaker's Woods?" Buffy grins over at Spike as he guns the motor on the De Soto.  
  
Spike rolls his eyes. "Not dignifying that with an answer, pet."   
  
"Can't imagine why no one else wanted to ride with us."   
  
"That's enough out of you, missy." Buffy giggles at Spike's reprimand. She rolls the window down, letting the crisp night air in. "Can't help it if the rest of your Scoobies are scared of my car. Or maybe of my driving. Rather just have you anyway. Won't have to hear Harris prattling for the next ten minutes."   
  
"He always talks a lot when he's nervous." Buffy smiles, remembering Xander's extended ramble when they met up at Giles' house tonight. At least he was still feeling supportive of their relationship. With so much else on her mind, she hasn't had time to analyze why the hell that is.   
  
"So, he's nervous twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, 52 bloody weeks out of the year?" Spike glances at her as he turns up a rural road outside of town.   
  
Buffy just shakes her head. The return of Spike's snark is a good thing. Means he is feeling up to the fight. Ready to knock heads if it comes to it. She is most definitely ready, body tight in anticipation. Despite Giles' feelings that her fighting skills won't be needed tonight, she doesn't want to let her guard down. If someone comes for Spike, she is going to kick that someone's ass, prophecy or no.   
  
A few minutes later, the two of them pull up outside the stone circle described in the prophecy. They get out and walk around the circle while they wait for the gang. Buffy lets her hands brush one of the stones and is surprised to feel a strange humming as well as a charge, like static electricity. She jumps back and Spike comes to her side as she stares down at her hand.   
  
"What is it, love?" Spike reaches out to touch her hand and feels the extra heat coming from it.   
  
"I…don't know. I just touched one of those stones and zap. It was…alive, almost." Buffy looks back at the monolith nervously. Spike moves towards it and she puts her hand on his arm. "Be careful."  
  
"Always, pet." Spike pauses, smiles. "Okay, never, actually. But I will be, I just want to feel what you felt." Reaching out slowly, Spike feels the buzzing electricity when his hand is still an inch away from the stone. He pulls back without making contact and shakes his hand. "Kinda stings, love. Did the Watcher mention this to you?"  
  
Buffy shakes her head. "No, he actually didn't say how the…whatever starts. There seems to be very little written beyond the prophecy."  
  
"Hmm. Well, I wonder if – " Spike is interrupted by the sound of a car approaching. They both see Giles' gray Citroen pull into the clearing. Xander, Willow, Giles and Anya climb out of the car. Willow, Xander and Anya go to the trunk to collect the books and weapons they packed, just in case.   
  
"It's buzzing, Giles!" Buffy calls out and points at the circle. She checks her watch and sees that it is after nine o'clock already. Things, whatever those things may be, could happen any minute.   
  
Giles walks towards Buffy quickly, face drawn in thought. She meets him halfway. "What is buzzing, Buffy?"  
  
"The stone thingies. I put my hand on one of them and it was all static charged. Same for Spike. It's all hot and electric. What do you think it…"   
  
"Spike, what are you doing?!" Giles calls over Buffy's shoulder, eyes widening in alarm. They both spin around and find Spike moving towards the center of the circle, to the stone set into the ground. He seems not to hear them as he reaches down to set both hands into indentations at the edge of the circle.   
  
Just as Spike's palms make contact, flame shoots out of the center of the stone, sending orange sparks flying into the night air. Spike flies backwards, landing with his back against the nearest stone, facing the flames.   
  
Buffy runs back to the circle to check on him. As she approaches, the sound of crackling fire grows louder as well as a low humming she doesn't really notice. As her hands reach the edge of the fire, a blue glow and a loud pop send her flying. Buffy lands a few feet from the circle, hands burning where they touched the barrier.  
  
"Buffy!" Both Spike and Giles cry out simultaneously. Spike slowly gets to his feet and tries to go to her, but is shocked and held back by the barrier that appears to encircle him and the stones. A line of orange fire rises up and shoots around the stones, completing a circle and creating the line of demarcation. "Buffy, are you okay?! What happened? How the hell did I get in here?"  
  
Giles gets to Buffy's side and sees that her hands are burned slightly, but she doesn't seem to feel it. Her eyes are locked on Spike, who is standing just inside the circle of fire, staring back at her. Buffy gets to her feet, brushing off Giles and his words of concern. She moves a few feet closer, until she can feel the heat of the fire against her legs.   
  
"You…you touched the stone in the center, Spike. Made the fire shoot up and then this…barrier showed up. Guess that answers our question of how the show gets started." Her light words mask the pain pouring from her.  
  
"I don't remember anything. I was talking to you and then…well, I woke up there on the ground."  
  
Buffy lifts one hand towards him and Spike does the same. They cannot touch through the electric field, but they move close enough to feel it humming through their skin. The air starts to move, the sense of electricity swirling around them. Spike and Buffy continue to look at each other, trying to send messages of unending love in a few seconds.   
  
"Be strong, love. It's going to be okay. Remember that. I love you." Spike feels the hairs on the back of his neck lift as the electricity inside the circle increases. The bonfire crackles and grows. He feels something coming.   
  
Buffy lifts her chin, defiant, eyes sparkling in the orange glow. "Always. I love you always, Spike."   
  
A loud crack behind Spike startles them both and their hands fall away. Giles pulls Buffy back from the ring of fire before it singes her.  
  
Three figures appear on the far side of the bonfire, inside the stone circle. Distorted by the flame and the heat, it is hard to make out their identities. Spike squints through the fire, trying to see who is there.  
  
The voice of a woman carries over the flame. "And so it begins."  
  
An older voice chimes in. "And so it ends."  
  
A final voice, also female, finishes the chorus, "Shall we discuss your fate, dear William?"  
  
******************  
  
Author's Note: Thanks for the continuing support! -Ti :) 


	44. Chapter 44: Fire and Ice

*****  
  
Chapter 44: Fire and Ice  
  
*****  
  
"And who the bloody hell are you?" Spike tries to move closer, around the fire, but something unseen prevents him. He peers at the hazy figures through the fire.   
  
The last voice that spoke answers him. "Temper, temper, William. All will be explained in due time."  
  
"He is impetuous." The voice is dry and crackles over the fire.   
  
A sigh from the first figure. "I know, Atropos. I made him so."   
  
"Made me? What are you talk - " Spike tries to interrupt, but the three robed figures ignore him.  
  
"Well, I will end him." The old voice rises slightly.  
  
"You will not. At least not until we talk to him. Be patient, ancient one."   
  
"Alright, that's enough, ladies. What the bloody hell are you going on about over there? And who are you?" Spike squints, trying to see through the fiery haze with little success. He glances over his shoulder, but finds that the ring of fire surrounding the stone circle has grown higher, so Buffy, Giles and the rest of the Scoobies are mostly blocked from his sight. He turns back when one of the women speaks again. That their voices are female is the only information he has been able to determine.   
  
"William, William. It will not to do to lose your temper with us. We are the Fates." One woman steps forward, pushing the hood from her face. Her features remain blurred to him, but her voice is soft. "I am Clotho, the spinner."  
  
The second figure also removes her hood, revealing a cascade of dark hair and a voice slightly tempered by age. "And I am Lachesis, the measurer."  
  
A few seconds later, the last figure, hunched inside her dark robe, speaks with a voice dry as ash. "I am Atropos."  
  
Face drawn in confusion at the unfamiliar figures in front of him and still quite aggravated, Spike blurts out, "And who are you, the one who sews on the buttons?"   
  
The moment of silence that follows tells Spike he made a wrong move. Complete and utter soundlessness drops over the group, even the crackle of the fire is silenced, though it continues to dance and throw sparks high into the sky. Dropping her hood to reveal a head of coarse gray hair and a face fully lined, Atropos moves around the fire towards Spike with a speed that causes him to take one step back.   
  
Her voice bites into him. "I cut."   
  
She pulls a pair of silver shears from the depths of her robe, snapping them once in front of his face, causing another step back from the blond vampire. It is not her stature, as she is several inches smaller than him, nor the gleaming shears that make Spike retreat. It's not even the power she obviously wields. No, it is her eyes - black, bottomless and completely devoid of human emotion - that make his borrowed blood run colder than usual.   
  
"When the time is right, I end life. With one snip." Demonstrating by clacking the shears one more time, she cracks her face into a small smile, almost sinister. Flames reflect on the silver as she slips the sharp blades back into her robe.   
  
Spike swallows, determined not to be scared of a little old lady with some scissors, even if she can do what she says. Mustering up a bit of bravado, Spike replies, "Oh good, luv. Here I thought I had something to worry about. Haven't been alive in some 130 years or so, so no worries for me, then."   
  
She leans closer, bringing those dead eyes nearer to his face. Rather than the normal human scents, Spike smells nothing, hears no heartbeat, feels no warmth. She is something well other than human. Her voice slightly slower, she speaks again, "You need not be alive. Your thread is still ours. All creatures that walk this earth come under my knife eventually." She pauses, "William." With that, Atropos steps back and when Spike blinks, the old creature is back on the far side of the fire. All the sound rushes back over him in a wave and Spike finds himself a bit weak in the knees.   
  
He tries to avoid looking at the old creature, as she pulls her hood back over her head, leaving her face in shadow. Nobody speaks for a few moments, leaving Spike wondering if he should open his mouth again. Recent experience tells him to keep it shut. Then again, he's never one to do the logical thing.  
  
"You birds planning on talking to me or just gonna let me slow roast over here?" He smirks a little, trying to not appear nervous. He doesn't want to do anything that will keep him from getting back to Buffy. Rupert's voice reading the prophecy - 'His existence is the price' echoes in his mind. Pretty high price. Might not do to piss these ladies off until he knows more.   
  
"His spirit is strong."  
  
"He is a fool."   
  
"Atropos. Stop. We've only just begun." Clotho turns to Spike and with a sweeping gesture of her robed arm, changes the world. The fire in the center of the circle extinguishes suddenly and three chairs appear behind the robed women. Spike looks around, trying to understand the oddest thing that has just occurred. Inside the circle of fire which still exists, it is daylight. Broad, midday sun shines down on him and yet...he is not burning. Squinting, he looks up. The sun is there alright, but he is not on fire. Grabbing his wrist, Spike feels nothing. So, he's still dead, but somehow Clotho moved her arm and turned the world upside down. Created daytime in the middle of night, doused fire and made objects appear from thin air with a wave of her hand. He swallows, hard. He was definitely going to have to behave.  
  
***  
  
Buffy strains to see what is happening inside the circle, but Spike is just a dark figure visible through the wall of flame. Just then, a beam of light shoots up from the circle, a solid cylinder of daylight dissolving into the night sky.  
  
"SPIKE!!!" Buffy pulls away from Giles, rushing closer to the fire until she feels its heat flush on her face. "SPIKE!" The dark figure turns and moves closer to Buffy until she can make him out. "Oh, thank God. He's not dust. Spike, can you hear me?" He lifts his hand, but no words pass through the fire. Clearly, there is magic in this fire, not just heat. Buffy lifts her hand towards the fire, only flinching back when the heat grows too intense. She feels hands on her arms as she is dragged away from the flames. Looking up as the cool night air comes over her again, she sees the concerned faces of Xander and Giles.  
  
"Hey now, Buffster, you scared us for a minute there. Thought you were going to do something flammable. You okay?" The scent of singed skin and hair is acrid.   
  
"I'm o..okay." Buffy gives Xander a weak smile before turning to her Watcher, whose gaze is fixed on the fire for the moment. "Giles, what the hell is going on in there?! First, he is drawn into the circle, then this wall of flame shoots up, trapping him. I think there are some people in there with him. I swore I saw something when that loud sound happened. And now, it's, what, high noon in there and he's not dusty? What the hell does this have to do with the prophecy?" Giles lets go of her arm and starts to circle the fire, keeping a safe distance.  
  
"Giles? Hello?" Buffy gets to her feet and follows Giles. "What do you see?"   
  
As Giles reaches the halfway point around, he puts his hand to his forehead. "Dear lord. I'm a fool."   
  
Buffy's voice pitches higher as she reaches his side. He has stopped walking and his eyes are still fixed on the fiery circle. Her eyes fix on his worried face before turning to follow his gaze. "Hey, are those chairs? Those look like chairs. Who is sitting in them? For god's sake, Giles, why are you a fool?"   
  
His voice soft, Giles turns to Buffy and she meets his now worried eyes. The flames flicker off his glasses, giving him an otherworldly appearance. "I missed the most obvious interpretation of the prophecy. So focused on what it would mean to Spike, to the world, to humanity, that I was careless. I missed one key word."   
  
"Please, just tell me."  
  
"It is not fate which has brought Spike here tonight, Buffy. No, it is The Fates. Plural." He pauses. Buffy studies him.  
  
"And? What's that?"   
  
Giles mouth twists in a small smile. "Bloody American education system. Never teach you the classics. Not what, Buffy. Who. The Fates are figures from ancient Greek mythology. Three who control the lives and well, naturally, the fates of mortals. And sometimes, the Greek gods, too."  
  
Buffy frowns as she looks at Giles' worried face, eyebrows drawn together. "Giles, needing more info here. Remember, educated in the good old U.S. of A.? Didn't study this mythology stuff. So, they are like...what? Not demons."  
  
"No, Buffy. If only. They are goddesses. With all the power that entails."  
  
"Oh." Buffy stares with Giles towards the backs of the chairs, unable to see the figures in them. "And they are in there with Spike, now? That's...not good." Face drawn in ever increasing fear, Buffy crosses her arms and shivers, though it's not the cold that makes her tremble.  
  
"Indeed."  
  
***  
  
The three women settle into their thrones and look at Spike across what is now simply a bare central stone. The sunlight washes over it, and a light breeze stirs him.  
  
"Nice trick, luv."  
  
Ignoring his words, Clotho speaks, "You are not exceedingly fearful, William. Why? Surely you recognize the power in front of you?"  
  
"Yeah, but I figure doesn't matter if I'm scared or not, see? You birds are going to do what you want, so I might as well just go with it."   
  
A trace of something like wonder cracks Clotho's youthful face before she returns to her inscrutable expression.  
  
"Interesting." Lachesis looks back and forth between her two fellow goddesses. "He is most unusual."  
  
"Of course. That is why he is trouble. Why we are here. Or have you forgotten so quickly?" Atropos' voice grates like metal on metal, making the hairs stand up on the back of Spike's neck.  
  
"Speaking of that, why are you here? Why am I here? None of us are enjoying it, so doesn't seem..."  
  
"Be quiet, William. All will become known in time." Clotho's gray eyes grow cloudy. "In our time, of course."  
  
She smiles, but there is no warmth in this expression, and Spike finds the unfamiliar sunlight does nothing to take away the chill.  
  
*********************  
  
Author's Note: Remember me?? Obviously, there has been a huge delay between chapters, due to lots of RL stuff conspiring to keep me from writing. I hope to return to a more regular update schedule now, so hang in there! And thanks for reading! -Tiana 


	45. Chapter 45: A Choice

  
  
Chapter 45: A Choice  
  
Spike paces across the grass, back and forth, as Clotho begins to speak. When she pauses, he interrupts. "So, let me get this straight...you had a plan for me. I've screwed it up. You're right pissed. Does that about cover it?" Spike stops pacing and looks across at the seated figures, squinting in the unfamiliar sunlight.   
  
No one speaks for a few seconds. Finally, Clotho sighs and answers. "That does not in the least cover it, vampire. The fates of the mortal world are complex. We weave lives together and pull them apart, choose their lengths, end them when appropriate. It is a delicate balance to keep the cloth strong and vital. You, as somewhat other than mortal, are not meant to move into that world in the way you have. You have disrupted the fabric in ways...unforeseen."  
  
Spike chuckles briefly, looking down. He glances up, meeting Clotho's strangely unnerving gaze. Her eyes are nearly metallic. Coppery. "Like I said, I bollocksed up your plans." He sees her jaw set and wonders when he will learn to stop talking.   
  
She ignores him and continues. "You have forced us to become involved in events, to become visible. It is not our normal approach." Clotho glances to either side at her companions. "I created the thread of your life. Your life as William. A human."  
  
The muscles in Spike's jaw twitch as he remembers his first existence so many years ago. He wonders where they are going with this.   
  
The figure to Clotho's right moves her hood back, long dark hair falling to her shoulders. Lachesis speaks softly, surely. Her tone chills Spike. "I chose your lot in that life. Sent you down that alley years ago in despair. To find your human end in the arms of a vampire. One problem. She was insane, was Drusilla. She was meant to kill you."   
  
Spike freezes, looking at this stately woman and her matter of fact discussion of his death.   
  
"We thought we had controlled your fate, but the lunatics of the world often unravel the fabric unexpectedly. And so, you lived. In a way. Clotho wove a new thread and we spliced it into the old. And I chose a new lot for you. One suited to an evil killer." The temperature in the ring of fire is surprisingly cold. Spike realizes it is the voice of the goddess making it feel that way. "A killer of Slayers. A force of true evil. Your Chosen Fate. We found your tendencies as a vampire made you follow your fate easily."  
  
"Wait just a soddin' minute. You're telling me you made me kill those Slayers? You three?" Spike's brow knits in anger and confusion.   
  
Clotho speaks again. Her voice lacks the sharp edges of her companions. "It is not easy to learn that the Fates exist, vampire. Few ever learn it and most wish they have not. We do not eliminate free will, but we steer. We create the path."  
  
Spike smiles a little. "Ah, I'm starting to see the problem here, luv." The cockiness in his body begins to return. "Didn't walk down the path just right, now did I?"   
  
"Silence, fool." Atropos spits the words out. "We are wasting our time here, sisters. He is insolent."  
  
"Well, yeah. But you ladies must have known that already, eh?" Spike lifts his eyebrows and waits for a reply.   
  
"That is enough. As I was saying, you were meant to be a force against good. And until recently, you were following your path to perfection. You killed two Slayers and were sent on your way to a third."  
  
Spike, for once, stays quiet. He remembers how he wanted to taste Buffy's blood a few years ago...and to think, he finally got the chance recently and it had nothing to do with killing her.  
  
"But something changed. Something..." Clotho wrinkles her nose in disgust. "...not fated. You developed a fascination with this Slayer. Beyond the killing instinct. The insane one saw it well before you did. We kept waiting for you to kill the Slayer and fulfill your destiny, but you failed. Over and over. And the Slayer still lives. Her every action forces us to rework the fabric. She was meant to die. You were meant to kill this Slayer two years ago."  
  
Spike takes a deep breath and looks at each Fate in turn as he speaks, his fists clenched. "Her. Name. Is. Buffy."   
  
Lachesis sighs. "See, he loves her. Loves her! This was not written in his fate. I would not do such a thing. A vampire in love with a Slayer. It is beyond reason."  
  
Clotho puts up her hand in a calming gesture. "Excuse my sister, Spike. She is unused to her handiwork being ruined in such a way. We have existed for longer than human history and rarely are we faced with such difficulties. These feelings you've had for the Slayer were well-hidden until Cupid got involved. Stupid, foolish boy always playing games. We kept him from the usage of his 'arrows of true love' and it did not matter. Still you loved her and most unexpectedly, she returned your love. And so we come to this."  
  
"Are you birds getting anywhere near the point of this little rendezvous? I think I'm startin' to freckle." Spike shades his eyes as the sun washes over him.   
  
Lachesis sighs again. "We should just let Atropos do her work."   
  
Atropos sits up, eager. Clotho waves her back into her seat. "No. As I've told you, that is not going to happen. He has become part of a prophecy. One we did not write. We must honor it. He must make his choice to fulfill the prophecy."   
  
Spike grimaces, glances over his shoulder at the flame that encircles him. No sign of Buffy or the others. Must be a mystical barrier. "Choose what? This chat is getting a bit old."  
  
Suddenly, the air crackles around the circle and Buffy's head looks to the sky for a storm. It is clear and star-filled. Then, a voice rings out, coming from inside the circle. Xander starts to ask a question, but Buffy and Giles wave him quiet. They listen to the conversation that continues inside the circle. The crackle of the flames is silenced. Spike is unaware of any change.   
  
"Though it goes against our very existence, you will be given...a choice. Your Fate will lie in your hands. Yours and the Slayer's. There are two choices."  
  
"Alright, get to it." Spike puts his hands on his hips, moving quickly from impatient to pissed.  
  
"Your existence." Lachesis speaks.  
  
And then Atropos, "Or her life."  
  
Clotho locks eyes with Spike. "Choose."  
  
Spike stares into Clotho's shimmering eyes, scowling. The veins in his neck stand out as every muscle in his body goes rigid. "There'd better be a third choice."  
  
Clotho speaks again. "There are two choices. You sacrifice yourself or she will be struck down. It is prophesized." Atropos pulls out the shears, giving them a snap. "One of you must go to set the fabric right again. We will not continue this alternate reality, this constant re-weaving. You were meant to kill her. Either do it now by your choice or give up your own existence, instead."   
  
"No." Buffy covers her mouth, horror written across her features, her skin gone deathly pale. "This can't be." Giles takes her by the shoulders, trying to control her trembling.   
  
"How in hell will my dying set the bloody wheel spinning again?" Spike frowns at the three figures in turn, but their faces are blank. Suddenly, a light goes on in his head. "Now, wait just a goddamn minute. If I snuff it, you are just going to send another vamp to kill 'er, aren't you? Fix your damn fabric that way, eh?"  
  
Clotho's face goes stony, all softness erased. The fury emanating from the three goddesses tells Spike he has hit the nail on the head.   
  
"These are your only choices. Choose wisely. The human who told you the prophecy did not interpret it correctly. To triumph as the prophecy describes, you must make the ultimate sacrifice. The humanity you protect from suffering is hers alone, the Slayer's. If you fail to choose correctly, darkness will fall on that warrior, as the prophecy foretells. It is you or it is the Slayer. This 'victory' comes at a price." She pauses and pulls the hood back up, shading her face. Her sisters do the same.   
  
"Choose." They speak simultaneously. Spike tries to fly toward them in a rage, but an unseen force throws him back.   
  
"NO!" Spike falls to his knees, grief buckling them. Tears streaming down his face, he looks up at them, whispers his reply. "Do it, then. Take me. Just...just save her." His voice goes hard and cold, flinty in the unnatural sunshine. His clear blue eyes flash with hatred and sorrow as tears fall unchecked. "But I swear by all that is holy and unholy, if you harm her, I will crawl up from the deepest circle of hell and find you. I love her more than I knew I could love and if a hair on her head is so much as singed, I will avenge it. I will rip your bloody fabric to shreds. And for the last fucking time, her name is BUFFY!" As the last word falls from his lips, Spike's body goes rigid in pain. The three Fates stand and lift their arms in his direction.   
  
And he screams.  
  
=========================  
  
Author's Note: I know, yipes! But, rest assured, there will be more to the story, so just hang in there. Reviews are like candy for my sweet tooth, so gimme! (Please?) :) Tiana 


	46. Chapter 46: Intervention

  
  
Chapter 46: Intervention  
  
The sound echoes long after he stops screaming. Spike curls up tight, trying to contain the pain surging through his body. Minutes pass in silence as the echoes finally fade.   
  
When he realizes the pain that burned through his chest is finally slowing, Spike begins to loosen his limbs, letting his body unfold. With a supreme effort considering the way his skin still sings with recent pain, he pries one eye open, the clear blue clouded with confusion. The sight that greets him is not at all what he expected. Both eyes pop open and he sits up, a bit too quickly.  
  
"Bloody fucking hell." Spike holds his head and looks around more slowly. Everything is so bright, he can't quite tell where he is. "Or maybe...heaven?" He worries a hand through his hair, pushing it into disarray, trying to figure out who made a huge paperwork mistake and sent him to heaven. A figure stands in front of him, glowing so white hot he cannot see anything else.   
  
"I do hope the pain did not last too long, Spike. And no, this is not heaven." Her voice slices through the fog in his mind and he realizes it is because her voice is ONLY in his mind. He blinks, shakes his head to clear it. Pushing himself up from the grass beneath him, biting off a moan, Spike gets to his feet. The blazing light in front of him dims so he can see the figure in front of him more clearly. Light pushes from around her, contained for the moment so she merely glows. A tall woman stands there, topping him by a few inches. Her robes are pristine, flowing around her in a cloud of soft fabric. Silver cords wrap around her, tracing her waist and torso. The skin he can see is so light it is nearly translucent. A mane of silken black hair is bound up in the same cords on her head in an elaborate design. Spike blinks, speechless. And so she speaks again. "You can hear me, can't you?" Her voice is musical, tones gentle and harmonious, caressing his mind. Spike finds himself lulled by the sound, but finally rouses to speech.  
  
"Yes, I can...hear you. In my soddin' head, that is. Not sure how you are managing that little parlor trick. And I don't know who you are...and why I'm not dead. Unless I am?" Spike frowns, looking around again. His hands run down his chest, but he feels quite solid. He considers checking to see if she is real, but something about the aura pouring off this woman makes him reluctant to move any closer. Power. He can smell it.   
  
"So many questions. I forgot how mortals can be. It's been some time." She laughs, and the sound pounds his mind from the inside out. Spike swallows. He was right about the power. She is so far from human he's not sure what to do. "Hmm. Where to begin? You are not dead. At least, no more than you were." She smiles and Spike finally focuses on her face. If he was not already sure that he was dealing with something other than human, the eyes would have told him. They are not quite blue, not quite gray and they seem to have no end. He breaks eye contact before he loses himself in them.   
  
"And Buffy? She's okay?" Spike tenses, jaw twitching. If those robed bints tricked him...   
  
"She is well as can be expected. She did hear you scream before I stopped time."  
  
Spike sighs in relief that she is unhurt and then shakes his head, not quite sure he heard her correctly. "Before you stopped what now?"   
  
She smiles briefly. "I needed time to speak with you and my daughters do not like to be interrupted. Better to just stop time for a few minutes. I have friends in high places, you might say."   
  
Spike stares at this woman in front of him, unsure of which question to ask next. The waves of old power she emits are making him feel lightheaded. That, and the almost being killed thing. "Luv, can you start over? I have no bloody idea what is going on. I thought I was making a sacrifice? And could you maybe speak out loud? Words bouncing around inside my skull are not the most comfortable thing."  
  
She brushes by his question, but her next words are audible. Spike sighs in relief. "My daughters are quite set in their ways, mortal. They have been undisputed in their power for much too long. It is good to remind them they are not infallible. Do you know me, young one?"  
  
"'fraid not. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say, you're a goddess? Just a hunch."  
  
She smiles softly at him. "I am Themis, mate of Zeus, mother of the Fates. Do you know me now?"  
  
Spike digs deep in his brain for his classical education of a hundred years ago. He's read about the gods of ancient Greece, never realizing they were real. Themis...yes!  
  
"An oracle, eh?" He smiles, happy with himself. "At Delphi, no less."  
  
Another smile. "Yes, that is how man knows me. I tell the future. I write prophecies by dictating them to men." She pauses, watching for the connection to be made. Spike's face lights up.  
  
"It was you! You wrote the prophecy I'm in! Bloody hell." Spike starts to pace, hands on his hips. This is all a bit too much for him to take in all at once.   
  
"Ah, I knew I was right about you. Clever. But I have other powers, unknown to common man. I am the goddess of oaths and of divine justice. And I see a need to fulfill one and dispense the other." She pauses, sinking into a chair Spike did not notice until just then.   
  
"You swore an oath to love her. To save her by giving up your own existence. To avenge her death should it come prematurely. I do not brush by such oaths. Particularly not from soulless beings. I abide them." She rests her chin on her hand, studying the blond vampire as he fidgets back and forth across the space in front of her. The frenetic nature of the mortal world is always entertaining. "Certainly you don't think I simply write the prophecies?"  
  
"What do you mean?" He squints at her. For the first time, he realizes they are still in the circle of fire, only it is frozen, motionless. The orange flames behind her are stopped in mid-flicker and the sound is gone. He casts a glance over his shoulder briefly, only to find the Fates are still there, but are held like statues, arms still raised. Spike turns back to Themis, eyes a bit wider.   
  
She leans forward, threatening to pull him into her bottomless eyes. "I make them happen. I push the Fates this way and that a bit, put ideas in the heads of other gods and of course, mortals. The Fates do not know it. My girls would not approve. But I am a Titan. An ancient one, pre-dating the gods. I am what you might call...set in my ways." Her mouth twitches up in a half-smile.  
  
"So, this is all not really up to the Fates? They said I had only two choices. Their two choices."  
  
"Stubborn girls. Impetuous. Sometimes, they are downright bullies. Don't tell them I said so, but they get it from their father. Zeus is all storm and bluster sometimes. Insists everything is done his way."  
  
Spike chuckles, starting to really like this bird. This god. He swallows, realizing she could likely blink him out of existence without straining a muscle. His laughter dies quickly.  
  
"The truth is, you do not have any choices as I am not giving you one. My prophecy will be fulfilled as I intended. Not as the Fates intended. I won't have them bending my words to their own ends. You have defied your destiny so many times, your current path has become your new destiny. They don't like that one bit. Well, I don't like my prophecies being abused and I happen to have more power than they do, so I did something about it."   
  
Spike grins fully. He definitely likes her. Only he hopes her choice is better than being dusted by the three Fates.   
  
"As I said, I am, among other things, the goddess of divine justice. And the justice I plan to dispense deals with my wayward daughters. Their divine power makes them foolhardy and I will put them in their place. They know full well you are not to die today. And they also know that the humanity in question is not the Slayer's."  
  
The words scroll through Spike's mind: iHis triumph will bring humanity to light, his failure will bring only darkness. His existence is the price. /i   
  
Spike stops pacing, turns to face her fully. His words come out slowly. "Not Buffy's humanity?" Inwardly, he curses the three Fates for lying to him.   
  
"And not all of humanity as the one called Giles thought. There is only one humanity I had in mind." She stops speaking and just rests her eyes on Spike. The way light seems to emit from her skin is making it hard for him to concentrate on her words. Not to mention the eerie time-stopping. He notices even the wind has stopped blowing. A thought enters his mind, but he instantly tries to dismiss it. A few feet away, Themis nods. Spike flinches. Great, she reads minds, too.  
  
"Yes. Yours."   
  
"That's all very interesting, luv, but I don't have any humanity, remember? Vampire? Soulless creature of the night, yeah?"   
  
She shakes her head and light seems to shake from her like water. "You have more humanity than even you realize. My girls did tell you one thing true. Drusilla was meant to kill you. When you became a vampire, I took note of you for one very good reason. Angelus was meant to be the figure in my prophecy, but the spark was not there. In you, I observed something. Something more. It is complicated. When Clotho created a new thread for your existence as a vampire, Lachesis wove it into your old thread as William. Only she left a small thread of him there. And it grew, flowed along with you as a vampire. Separate, but present." She paused. "Do you understand?"  
  
Spike squinted at her, turning these concepts over in his head. "You are saying that...William has never left me completely? A bit of him still in here?" He splays a hand to his chest, covering his heart.   
  
"Yes. He gives you the capacity to love the way you do. The demon in you has held his influence at bay for some time, but when you met Buffy...something changed. He...asserted himself." She smiles softly, and Spike feels the warmth from her glow on his skin. It warms him more than the artificial sunshine created by the Fates.  
  
"So...it wasn't you who made me fall in love with Buffy to make your prophecy work? It was the bloody poet in me?"   
  
She laughs lightly before reclining in her chair. "That's right. One of the most fortuitous things that could have happened. I had wanted you for that prophecy for some time and you paved the way without my help. Well, I helped a little. I planted an idea in the most impressionable Psyche and she ran with it. Convinced Cupid to...awaken your interest further. Reveal your feelings for the world to see." The grin is mischievous and Spike runs his tongue across his front teeth, remembering just how much his interest had been awakened after Cupid's interference.   
  
"So, uh, what's next, then?" Spike feels his skin itch in anticipation. Maybe he will not die this night after all. He had grown used to the idea. Grown used to the thought of having to leave Buffy, though it tore him to pieces inside. Now, maybe this goddess was going to change his...life?   
  
She smiles, and it reaches all the way to her cavernous, storm cloud eyes this time. "This might hurt a little."   
  
=========================  
  
Author's Note: Thanks for the great support so far on this fic! I really appreciate it. :) Tiana 


	47. Chapter 47: Heartbeat

Chapter 47: Heartbeat

* * *

Spike finds himself without fear as Themis stands and comes near, drawn to his knees by just a look from the storm clouds in those eyes. He feels the light building, surging around her with a force so strong there is sound to the light, there is heat. Crackling, snapping energy swirling, building in intensity until it gathers into Themis herself. Her skin, glowing before, blazes light so bright Spike flinches, closes his eyes as his world goes white. In the next second, he feels the light rush into him, seeking out every corner of his body, pushing into every void, expanding his veins, his lungs and finally, his long dead heart.

With a gasp, Spike takes a breath. Then, another. In the next second, with a thump of his heart, he kickstarts a rhythm he has not maintained in over a hundred years. Now sprawled forward on his hands and knees, Spike breathes wildly as the light burns through him and finally begins to recede. He opens his eyes and spots dance in front of them as his heart races, unused to its new task, beats skipping and bounding inside his chest. An unfamiliar warmth pulses out from his chest, slipping and pouring through his body until he feels his toes tingle and his fingertips throb with it. Finally, Spike sits back on his heels and looks up at Themis, eyes wild.

She is the picture of calm, seated back on her throne-like chair, eyes gone nearly gentle as she watches him struggle. Spike's hand clutches his shirt, trying in vain to control his heartbeat. His cheeks flush, newly pumping blood filling them with a pink glow. Themis leans forward just a little, "Are you well, William? Can you feel the life pulsing through you?"

Spike nods, swallowing hard as his heart rate finally begins to slow and stabilize. Short of breath, gasping, he breathes out a reply. "What exactly just happened?"

A small smile plays across her lips as Themis regards him. "I brought your humanity to light." A light dances in her eyes. "As was prophesied."

Spike falls silent, assessing the new feelings in his body. The warmth he emanates, the way his heart thrums strong in his chest. And still, a strength beyond any human. Senses sharp enough to smell the scent of Themis' hair, to taste the air around him. His eyebrows draw down tightly as he snaps his eyes to hers. His voice is low, focused and a flicker of gold flashes in his eyes. "I'm still a vampire." Spike rises to his feet, his body tense with power. "I'm...what in hell am I?"

Themis, calm as ever, holds him in his place with a flick of her eyes. "You are one like no other, William. I took the two threads of your existence and blended them to make you both human and vampire. Strong, but not immortal. A thirst for blood, a need for food. Do you understand? You were chosen." She pauses. "By me."

He stares at her for a few seconds, her meaning sinking in.

"For her." Spike's face opens in amazement. "For Buffy. I can be with her. Stay with her. Fight by her side." He swallows, tears rising suddenly and his voice barely audible. "I can actually grow _old _with her." Eyes wet, he grins at the goddess in front of her.

She returns a soft smile and nods. "For someone who has just lost his immortality, you seem pleased."

"Sod the immortality. I've lived a bleedin' long time already. I never thought I could be what she needed. Not really. And now you've done it. I still don't understand why, but I'm bloody pleased you did." Spike feels his heart race in excitement and puts his hand to his chest. "This is going to take some getting used to." He pauses, his focus inward, his body gone very very still. When he finally lifts his eyes to meet Themis', they are soft and blue and full of an indefinable emotion.

She seems to know what he is going to ask before he does. Themis begins to nod as Spike speaks. "A soul?"

"Indeed."

"It...I can feel it. It's really there." Suddenly, his face goes completely serious and his gaze sharpens, face drawn and serious. He stands up, ramrod straight, and faces her. "What's the catch?"

For the first time since appearing from thin air, Themis looks momentarily confused. "The catch? What do you mean?"

"I mean, is it like Peaches' soul? I get to be with Buffy, but I can't be _with_ Buffy?"

"Peaches?" Themis' ivory-skinned features continue to be marred by wrinkles of confusion.

"Sorry. Angel...Angelus? Got cursed with the soul, can't get 'happy' or poof, he's evil?"

Themis hesitates a moment longer and then laughs softly. "Oh, yes. He was cursed by the Romany. A souled vampire, but with...restrictions. That would be the 'catch' you speak of?"

Spike nods in reply, unable to keep a smirk from his face.

"There is no such 'catch' with your soul, William. Or Spike. Really, both are correct now. You are both of them more than ever."

The smirk spreads into a full grin, crisp blue eyes flashing with mirth. "Well, that's bloody well fantastic, love. Feel like I hit the lottery." He cocks an eyebrow at her. "Sure there's no catch?"

"I am quite certain. Your Slayer is The Slayer of this age. She deserves a partner who can match her strength, her heart and her soul. You are now that match. If there is a catch, it is that you should not make a goddess angry. You will not squander this gift. Understand?" Her power, muted until this moment, floods over Spike in a wave, making him lightheaded and nauseous. Themis' stormy eyes flash a warning not lost on Spike.

"Not to worry. You're one bird I'm not going to cross."

Themis rises to her feet again and in a blink, the chair behind her is gone. Her robes flow in a breeze of her own making, as the world around them is still frozen. "Good. You have a survival instinct. This will serve you well in the years to come. Remember, William, you can be killed now. In all the ways both mortals and vampires alike may die."

"Got it. And...thanks. You won't regret this."

"You're right. For if I come to feel any regret for this gift, I will ensure you feel that same regret a thousand times over. I know you will do all in your power to prevent such an unfortunate result."

Spike swallows, the unfamiliar feeling of his heart racing in fear cutting through him. Her power is beyond reproach and he is quite sure she is the most dangerous woman he has ever been near, Buffy included. The sensation of his heartbeat pounding in his ears is disturbing and he realizes this living, breathing gig is going to take some getting used to.

"You've got my word."

Themis pauses, studies the serious man in front of her and smiles slightly in satisfaction. Her choice is a good one.

"Farewell. Oh, and do not let my daughters threaten you anymore. You will not die today." Themis starts to gesture with her hands and then hesitates. "Time will resume now. Be ready. And be well." She completes a wave of one hand with the nonchalance of a goddess. Spike is immediately blinded by white light once again as he feels the world rush back over him. Sound and scent and noise flood his senses as the white light fades. He is again in the center of a circle of crackling fire facing three immortals. He glances around sharply, but all signs of Themis are gone. Spike's hand goes to his chest and breathes a sigh of relief. His heartbeat is still there. It was real.

The false daylight created by Clotho has vanished, letting the moonlight back into the stone circle. The three Fates lower their arms, faces filled with confusion. The blond vampire is not screaming in pain or even cowering. He is standing upright, arms crossed, looking somewhere between cocky and pissed.

Clotho is the first to recover and speak. Her voice is harsh and angry and it cuts into Spike, who doesn't even flinch. "Vampire, what have you done? How have you..."

"It's not fun when someone toys with your big plans, is it? A right pisser, I know. Turns out you three are bit full of yourselves and your power is not all that you made it out to be." Spike smirks, trying to remember his new human vulnerability, but finding it difficult to back down from these three.

Atropos' voice crackles over the air, making the hair on the back of Spike's neck stand on end. "How dare you speak to us this way! I will not have it, creature." With a sharp gesture, she conjures Spike's thread into her hand and whips out her scissors, ignoring the words from her sisters. The blades flash with firelight as she starts to close them over the newly merged thread. With a sudden crack, the scissors fly from her hand and she screams, holding her hand in pain as she falls to her knees. Spike's thread starts to fall, but is snatched into the hands of Lachesis, who looks at it in wonder.

"It has been fully merged. How is this possible?"

Spike tilts his head to the side, one eyebrow lifted. "Oh, did I forget to mention it? Your mum told me to give you a message. She says, 'Sod off.' Only not in so many words."

Pale faces go paler still as the three sisters quail at the mention of Themis. Clotho strides forward, but keeps her distance from Spike. "You do not know our mother."

"Sure I do. Tall gal, 'bout yea high." Spike gestures a few inches above his own height. "Black hair, white robes? A looker, too. And a bit unhappy with you lot." He smiles. "Thought you should know. She says to keep your mitts off me 'til it's my real time to go. I'm thinking she has something to do with _that_, Grams." Atropos scowls up at him, her hand curled up, blistered and red. She gets to her feet, but doesn't say a word.

"Let us be gone, sisters. He is nothing to us now." Her grating voice seems to wake Clotho and Lachesis from their fear and confusion.

"Yeah, nice meetin' ya! See you in fifty years or so, right?" They turn from him without another sound and as they take a few steps away, they begin to fade from view. "Don't let the portal hit your asses on the way out!"

With a sudden crack and pop that makes Spike's ears ring, the fire surrounding him vanishes as the Fates wink from view. He is suddenly very very tired and feels himself slowly sink to the ground.

"Spike!" Finally released from Giles' and Xander's grips, Buffy runs forward, throwing herself on the ground next to him. His eyes are slightly out of focus, but he is still semi-conscious. "Spike! Are you okay?"

He grimaces, and then tries to smile in reassurance. "I'm not deaf, love. And yeah, 'm okay. Just...tired. Can I just...rest for a minute?" The sudden changes to his physical self are taking a toll on Spike and the adrenaline of facing the Fates is wearing off in a hurry. His eyes slip closed, his hand lightly grasping Buffy's. Xander, Anya, Giles and Willow come up behind her, faces showing their confusion and worry.

Buffy leans forward, relieved to see that her love is still in one piece. The short period of time he was in the circle and out of reach felt like an eternity. And now, to see him again and seemingly unhurt. Her throat closes as tears push their way toward her eyes. She drops down, resting her head on his chest and clutching him to her.

The first clue is the warmth. She quickly writes that off to his time in the fire circle. And then, there is the way his chest is rising and falling. But then again, he usually breathes. A habit, he says.

But the heartbeat. She has no explanation for that one. And yet, there it is, thumping along slow and steady. Giles sees Buffy's entire body go rigid as she presses her ear into his chest.

"Buffy, what is it? What's wrong?" She doesn't answer, waving him silent for another minute. Buffy concentrates on slowing her own heart to avoid any confusion, any misunderstanding. Her left hand reaches for his wrist and feels for the pulse there. And finds it.

Anya wonders aloud, "Giles, why is Buffy checking for Spike's pulse?"

Taking his glasses off and holding the back of his hand to his mouth for a second, Giles finally answers. The reaction of his Slayer could mean only one thing, really.

"If I had to guess, I'd say it's because he has one."

* * *

Author's Note: I know...wow, it's been a long time since I updated this fic! I'm trying to get caught up on all my fics, so bear with me. I hope there are still folks out there following this one! Enjoy! -Ti :)


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